


Kindred Spirits

by dairesfanficrefuge_archivist



Category: Highlander - All Media Types, The Sentinel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1999-12-31
Updated: 1999-12-31
Packaged: 2018-12-18 05:31:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 30,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11867748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dairesfanficrefuge_archivist/pseuds/dairesfanficrefuge_archivist
Summary: Note from Daire, the archivist: this story was originally archived atDaire's Fanfic Refuge. Deciding to give the stories a more long-term home, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address onDaire's Fanfic Refuge's collection profile.





	Kindred Spirits

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Daire, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Daire's Fanfic Refuge](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Daire%27s_Fanfic_Refuge). Deciding to give the stories a more long-term home, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Daire's Fanfic Refuge's collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/dairesfanficrefuge/profile).

Kindred Spirits by Andi C.

_Kindred Spirits_

By Andi C. 

This is a standard disclaimer. The characters and premise for the Highlander belong to Rysher/Panzer/Davis. The Sentinel and its characters belong to the UPN and Pet Fly. No infringement is intended. I make no profit off of this. It's all for fun and the characters will be returned unharmed. Charlie Pierson is my own creation. Please do not borrow her without permission. 

Previous stories with Charlie Pierson and Methos are alluded to in this story. You may wish to read them first, although this story can stand by itself. Those stories can be found on the Highlander 7th Dimension, Daire's Fanfic Refuge or the Hetskateers Headquarters sites. 

This contains spoilers for the Sentinel episode of "Private Eyes". There is also one minor mention for Xena, the Warrior Princess. Thanks to all my beta readers and to the group on the Hetskateers list who provided all sorts of opinions on the question of what happens to the bullet when an immortal is shot. You guys are the best. 

All products that are trademarked have the ™ signature behind the name. 

{ } **\- Denotes telepathic thoughts**

* * *

Detective Jim Ellison stood at the doorway to the room and watched the forensics technicians gather evidence. He hated the helpless feeling he got when one of the citizens of his city met a violent, senseless death. It made him feel like he failed in his job. It didn't help matters that the woman whose body they had removed was just one in a string of female victims being left behind by a serial killer. 

Jim felt his boss, Captain Simon Banks, move up beside him. "Where's the kid, Jim?" Simon was referring to Blair Sandburg, grad student, police observer, and Jim's roommate/best friend/partner. 

Jim rubbed at his tired eyes. "He's in the truck, Captain. I didn't want him to have to see this. It's bad enough that **_I_** have to." He continued in a low tone that only Simon could hear. "I did a cursory sweep, but didn't pick up anything. Like that's surprising. It's not as though my abilities have found anything on the last four murder scenes. I didn't see the need to make him come in and see this." He swept his hand around the room, where the blood splattered on the walls told a gruesome tale about the violence that had occurred. 

Jim Ellison was a modern-day Sentinel, genetically predisposed to have heightened senses in order to help protect the tribe: they found game and good hunting, and warned the tribe of danger. Only in this case, his 'tribe' was the city of Cascade, Washington, whose citizens he had sworn to protect and serve when he joined the police force. And danger came in the form of drug-dealers, serial killers and thieves. 

Jim had been born with enhanced senses, but had repressed them for years. Only recently had they re-emerged. Circumstances had led him to graduate student Blair Sandburg in a search for answers. Blair had agreed to help, in order to study Jim and his abilities for his dissertation. At least, that's how it had started. But three years later, Blair was now more than just an observer, he was Jim's Guide. He helped the detective to focus and use his senses to pick up clues that could otherwise be missed. He also helped Jim avoid 'zone-outs'; those episodes where Jim would focus on one sense to such an extent, that everything else faded into the background. 

Jim shook his head. It sounded so simple, but words couldn't describe all the ways Blair helped him. Not only in his role as Jim's Guide, but also as Jim's friend. Jim extended his hearing, picking up the heartbeat of his Guide out in the truck. Just hearing that familiar 'thump-thump' rhythm helped Jim relax. 

Jim felt Simon's hand on his shoulder, squeezing lightly. "Jim," the big, lanky black man whispered, "are you zoning on me?" 

"I'm okay, Simon. Just checking on the kid, that's all. Let's go, huh? There's nothing more I can do here at the moment." He and Simon walked out of the small house where the latest murder had taken place. After the dimness inside the house, the bright morning sunshine was glaringly bright. Jim's gaze went immediately to his truck. He saw a young man standing next to the vehicle, pacing. Jim felt some of the tension drain out of him the moment he spotted his partner. 

A passerby would have been forgiven to think that the cop would soon be placing handcuffs on the young man. Their physical differences made them seem an unlikely pair to be friends much less partners. Jim was tall and muscular, his blond hair cut short. He still carried himself like the military officer he had once been. In contrast, Blair was shorter in height and his long, dark curls reminded most of a sixties flower child. Where Blair was exuberant and energetic, Jim was more reserved and conservative. But no one that knew the pair could deny the devotion and trust they shared. 

The moment Blair realized that Jim had returned he jogged over to the men. "Hey, Jim," he said. "Anything?" 

Jim shook his head. "Nothing new. Definitely the same perp, though, same MO. But still no clues that get us any closer to his or her identity. God, I'm tired of this." He rubbed his hand over his face. When he looked up, he saw Blair staring down at his feet, hands stuffed into his pocket and scuffing the toe of his shoe back and forth like he always did when he had something to say that he knew Jim wasn't going to like. Jim sighed. "Go ahead, spit it out, Chief," he said, calling Blair by his usual nickname for the young man. 

"Okay, but just hear me out before you dismiss the idea out of hand. You remember that class I took last semester with Dr. Jacobs, from Seacouver?" 

Jim thought back. "You mean that guy who runs the Paranormal Institute?" Jim had an idea where this conversation was heading. "What about him?" 

"Well, what about a psychic? I mean, I know you weren't real thrilled with Charlie Springer, Jim, but it's worth a try, isn't it? Even you said that this killer needs to be stopped at all costs." Blair waited for the big detective to rant and rave, or to make some kind of sarcastic remark, but to his surprise, it never happened. 

Jim thought back to the case Blair was referring to. Blair's mother, Naomi, had shown up in Cascade with psychic Charlie Springer in tow. Springer had helped Jim and Blair locate a kidnapped child. Although the guy had been a major pain, he had been instrumental in finding the girl. Jim just turned to his captain, the man who had the final say. "It couldn't hurt, Simon." 

Simon Banks almost bit his ever-present cigar in two. He stared at Jim like the man had suddenly grown an extra head. "Are you serious, Ellison? You want to bring a psychic in on this case? After that ruckus with Springer, you vowed that you'd never again deal with a psychic." 

Jim shrugged. "Yeah, I know, Simon. I used to think they were all con-artists. Then I figured they were all out for the publicity. But as far as I'm concerned, if they can help us catch this guy, they can have the publicity. I just want this guy behind bars." Jim didn't relish the thought of having to deal with another person trying to get their names in the paper, but Blair was right. Jim would do cartwheels naked through the streets if it would help to catch this killer. If a psychic could pick up even a tiny clue that they didn't already have, it would be worth it. He looked at Simon. It was ultimately the captain's decision. 

Simon just gazed back and forth between the two men, then chomped down on his cigar. "I'm probably going to regret this, but okay. Make the call, Sandburg." 

"You got it, Captain. I'll get the number when I get back to my office." 

"Why don't we go now, Sandburg. We can make the call from your office." He shrugged at Simon's raised eyebrows. "Just because I'm willing to use a psychic doesn't mean I want to broadcast it." 

Thank God for that. Now at least I know you haven't completely lost your mind. For a minute there, I thought Sandburg had completely ruined you. Next thing I know, you'd have been meditating and eating weeds and seeds." 

"Actually," Jim said, "some of those seeds aren't too bad, Simon. Still can't stand the sprouts, though." His face was serious as he looked at Simon, but the man could see the twinkling in those blue eyes and the slight nudge Jim gave Blair with his elbow. 

"Oh, get out of here, you two, go make that call. And bring me back some lunch when you return to the station." 

"Right, Simon," Blair teased. "One seaweed and sunflower-seed salad, coming up." 

"Sandburg," Simon growled. 

Jim laughed. "Don't worry, Captain. We'll get you the Super Colossal from Wonderburger." He and Blair got into Jim's truck and drove away, heading to Blair's office at the university. 

Simon watched the truck until it was out of sight. He couldn't believe the changes in Jim over the last few years. This smiling, joking detective was no longer the same stern, hard-assed cop he once was. Before, everyone had thought Jim was a cold-hearted, unfeeling SOB. Simon knew that Blair had a lot to do with Jim's new attitude. The kid could be a major pest sometimes, but Simon knew that Jim couldn't function without him. Besides, Blair wasn't just Jim's friend he was Simon's, too. Not to mention that Simon's son, Daryl, practically worshipped the young grad student. Daryl's talks with 

Blair had led to better relations between Daryl and Simon. The police captain wouldn't have traded that closeness for anything. Pushing thoughts of the three to the side, Simon headed back into the house to see how the forensics team was coming along. 

* * *

The trip back to the university was silent. Jim was still processing information from the latest crime scene, and Blair was in shock over Jim's capitulation about the psychic. He knew that Jim was worried about this case. The fact the Jim's senses hadn't been able to pick up any useful information about the suspect was annoying the big cop. Usually, he'd get _something,_ but so far, everything he had picked up was useless. The killer had left very little physical evidence, just a few stray hairs, which wouldn't help until they actually had a suspect to compare them to. The scents that Jim had picked up were all common ones, present on any number of people. Until they could figure out the pattern, or determine how he or she chose the victims, they were in the dark. 

When they reached Blair's office, Jim just stared in wonder. Every time he came here, it seemed to be more disorganized. The stacks of books seemed to be getting taller and taller. It amazed him that his friend was able to find anything in the office. But Blair went straight to his desk, found the card he had received from Dr. Jacobs, and picked up the phone. Jim unashamedly eavesdropped on both sides of the conversation. 

"Hi. This is Blair Sandburg, from Rainier University in Cascade," he told the receptionist who answered. "Could I speak to Dr Jacobs, please? Yeah, it's kind of an emergency. Yes, I'll hold, thanks." Putting his hand over the receiver, he told Jim, "She's seeing if he's available." 

A voice came on the line. "This is Dr Jacobs, can I help you?" 

"Dr Jacobs, this is Blair Sandburg. I don't know if you remember me. We met a few months ago, when you had that class at Rainier University." 

"Hmm, you're the young anthropologist, aren't you? Yes, I remember. What can I do for you?" 

"Well, sir, I'm working as a consultant with the Cascade Police department. We have a case going on here that has kind of hit a brick wall. I suggested possibly bringing in a psychic, and they agreed. We could use some help." 

"Well, getting the help would be no problem, Mr Sandburg. Don't take this the wrong way, but I would need to speak directly with whomever is in charge. I need to know what kind of talent would be of most use. And I have some ground rules, before I'll get any of my people involved. You do understand, don't you?" 

"Absolutely, sir. The man you want is Captain Simon Banks, of the Major Crimes unit." He rattled off Simon's number, then glanced at his watch. "He should be back in his office by now." 

"All right. I'll give him a call. Thank you, Mr Sandburg." 

"Thank you, Doctor. By the way, are you planning on doing another seminar here this year?" 

"I was planning to, although the dates haven't been worked out yet. Why?" 

"I plan on recommending the class to a few of my students that have an interest in the field. It was quite informative. I really got a lot out of it." 

"Well, thank you. That's nice to hear. I'm sorry, but I really have to get going, now. I have a meeting coming up, and I'll have just enough time to talk to your captain." 

"Of course. Thank you for your time, sir." He hung up the phone and glanced at Jim. His friend looked tired. Not that Blair was surprised. He knew Jim hadn't been sleeping lately. Although he tried to be quiet, Blair had heard him pacing around the loft until early this morning. This case was really getting to the detective. Blair grabbed his jacket off the chair where he'd thrown it. "C'mon, man. I'm buying lunch today. Let's go get you and Simon your coronary-on-a-bun. I'll grab a sandwich from that deli next door." He clapped Jim on the shoulder, as the two men headed out. 

* * *

When they walked into the bullpen, Simon was already waiting for them. Setting lunch down on the small table in Simon's office, they ate while discussing the case. 

"Dr. Jacobs called to discuss all the particulars. He's going to call one of his people and get them down here." He took a bite of his burger, taking care not to drip any of the sauce on his shirt. "I have to admit, my talk with him left me feeling a little bit better about this." 

"In what way, sir?" Jim asked, popping a French fry into his mouth. 

"Well, for starters, he made me promise that no mention of his people or the Institute would get released to the media in relation to the case. They don't want any publicity." 

"Someone that doesn't want their fifteen minutes of fame. Works for me," Jim said. "Maybe I can actually do my job without having to dodge the television crews." 

"Well, they have good reason for the request. Apparently, one of their people helped track down a serial killer up in Seacouver a few years ago. The killer was able to flee before they could arrest him. Anyway, the press got wind of the fact that the police used a psychic, and released the poor woman's identity. Damn fools. The killer decided to go after her. The woman ended up having to defend herself from the man she'd helped identify." 

Blair's eyes widened. "Is she okay?" 

"Yeah, but not until after she and the killer had a hell of a fight in her apartment. She ended up cutting his head off with a sword." 

"A sword," Jim exclaimed. "What the hell was she doing with a sword?" 

"Who knows. Anyway, after that, the Institute really cracked down on the publicity. And the departments who have gone to them for help have done everything they could to preserve that. We'll do the same. For their peace of mind and ours." 

Jim smiled grimly. He hated feeling like this was a last-ditch effort to find the killer. He just hoped this psychic could help find _something_ that could lead them to the perp. "You said his request for no publicity was one thing. Was there anything else?" 

"He gave me a list of contacts within other departments they've assisted. I haven't heard so many glowing recommendations since...I don't know when. If I didn't already know some of these people personally, I would think it was all a set up." 

"And, of course, you've already checked out Dr. Jacobs, right?" Blair asked innocently. Simon threw him a sharp glance. 

"Yeah, I did," Simon admitted. He shrugged. "What can I say? Old habits die hard." 

"What did you find out about him, Simon?" 

"The man's got a rock-solid reputation, Jim. So does the Institute. Everyone associated with the place or with him are considered the 'real thing', so to speak." Simon put the last bit of his burger in his mouth, chewing slowly while gathering his thoughts. "So, as soon as we hear from him, we can plan our next move. Jim, you coordinate everything with this psychic. Just keep me updated." 

"Will do, sir. One thing though..." Both Blair and Simon looked at him, waiting. "I think we all need to be on guard. There's no telling what a psychic might get wind of in regards to my Sentinel abilities." 

Blair slumped back in his seat, slapping his forehead. "Oh, man, that never even occurred to me." 

"Me either, Jim. Do you want me to assign someone else to deal with them?" 

Jim shook his head. "No sir, this is my case, and I want to stay on it. But it's something we all need to be aware of. I'm not sure what a psychic might pick up. Springer didn't seem to notice anything out of the ordinary. It's just a warning to stay on our toes." 

"Yeah, so, business as usual, right?" Blair quipped. "Ow." He rubbed the back of his head, glaring at Jim for the gentle whap. "Hey, man, what was that for?" 

"Just business as usual, Sandburg. Business as usual." 

* * *

_Seacouver (several hours later)_

Charlotte "Charlie" Pierson let herself into her apartment and put her briefcase down on the chair next to the door. Easing her feet out of her high-heeled shoes, she walked over to the back of the couch and slid her arms around the man sitting on it. "Hey, darling." 

Methos turned his head to look up at his wife. Accepting her kiss, he smiled when she came around the couch and sat down, picking up the white cat, Snowflake, who was curled up in his lap. She immediately put her stocking-clad feet there instead. Without hesitation, Methos started to rub the soles, eliciting a soft groan of appreciation from Charlie. "Oh, that feels so good." 

Methos raised his eyebrows suggestively, his green-gold eyes shining, his soft, accented voice teasing playfully. "I know something else that would feel even better." 

Charlie threw a pillow at him. "You really are a dirty old man, you know that." But the tone of her voice was warm and loving. 

"Well, what do you expect? I'm five thousand years old, love. A man has to have some way to pass the time." Charlie laughed at his joke, but knew that in some respects, that was true. Her husband may look and act like Adam Pierson, thirty-something grad student; but to a select few he was Methos, the world's oldest immortal. 

"Well, we can 'pass the time' later. I need to talk to you." 

"Uh-oh. I don't like the sound of that. Will I need my sword?" A sword was an immortal's only means of protection. The only way an immortal could die was by being decapitated. It usually happened in a fight with another immortal. It was all a part of the Game. When an immortal loses their head, all their power and strength is released through the Quickening, an explosion of energy that slams into the victor. The older and stronger the immortal, the more powerful the Quickening. Losing was not something Methos wanted to experience anytime soon. He knew he couldn't stay out of the game, so he made sure he was prepared to play, and prepared to win. Luckily, only a very few knew about immortals at all. And most of them didn't know his real name or age. Otherwise, everyone would be hunting him. Methos turned his attention back to his wife. 

"So, what's up?" 

"How would you like to take a trip down to Cascade?" 

"Is this a pleasure trip, or is this business?" 

Putting down the cat, she scooted closer to him on the couch. She ended up in his lap, with her arms around him. "Well, it's business." She kissed him lightly. "But I could very easily be convinced to turn it into a pleasure trip afterwards." 

"And I do so love convincing you..." He trailed off, as Charlie's tongue delved into his mouth. He reveled in the sensations for a few moments, then turned serious. "What's in Cascade?" 

"The police department down there has requested help. Dr. Jacobs wants me to go down and lend what assistance I can. And I want you to go with me." She shivered slightly. Methos knew what she was remembering. He had been there when she had helped the police in Seacouver track a serial killer several years ago. Then the media released Charlie's name as the psychic that had helped uncover him. The killer, still on the loose, had come after Charlie. 

Through the telepathic bond he and Charlie shared, Methos had known she was in trouble. He had even seen the fight, through Charlie's eyes. Because of that, he had been able to guide Charlie in defending herself with his sword. Luckily, she had managed a lucky blow, beheading the killer and saving her own life. Methos still had nightmares about that, even seven years after the fact. The thought of losing her still scared the hell out of him. He would do anything to protect her. 

Methos smoothed her auburn hair away from her face, tucking a strand behind her ear. "Of course I'll come with you. When are we supposed to leave?" 

"Tomorrow. They want someone down there as soon as possible." 

"Okay, let me call MacLeod and see if he can take care of Snowflake." He moved Charlie gently off his lap, and walked over to pick up the phone. 

Charlie groaned. "Do you think he's up to it, after the last time?" 

"Probably not," Methos said, picking up the receiver. His face lit up with a wicked smile. "That's the point." Duncan had offered to take care of the cat last year, so Methos and Charlie could spend their anniversary in Vancouver. Snowflake had proceeded to turn the four-hundred-year-old immortal into a paranoid mass of nerves, jumping out at him from unusual places at the damnedest times. It was the animal's favorite game, something Methos had intentionally neglected to mention to Duncan. By the time the couple had returned, Duncan was convinced that the cat was really the devil in disguise, out to get him. Charlie wasn't sure if the man was ready for another go at cat sitting. 

Charlie listened to Methos' side of the conversation, and knew by the unholy smile that eventually came to his face, that Duncan had finally agreed. Putting down the phone, Methos reached over to pet the cat. "Guess what, furball. Your favorite playmate's coming over tomorrow. I hope you've got a lot of new places to ambush him from." 

"Mrow," the cat replied, gazing up at Methos, as if to say 'of course, you silly human. Did you expect anything less?' Jumping down from the couch, Snowflake went over to the corner of the living room, where Charlie had set up his scratching post. The feline proceeded to sharpen his claws, a warrior getting ready for battle. 

Methos chucked evilly. "Maybe I should think about setting up a hidden camera in here. I could have fun getting that on film. 'Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod has battle of wits with Furball and loses. Film at eleven.'" He sprawled onto the couch next to his wife, laughing. 

Charlie slapped him on the arm. "You are so wicked. How poor Duncan puts up with you, I'll never know." 

"Funny, he asks me how you do it. I told him you have me domesticated." 

Laughter rang out in the apartment. "Right. About as domesticated as a wild panther." 

"Growl," Methos said softly, standing up and extending his hands to his wife. Pulling her up from the couch and into his arms, he said, "Now, didn't you say something earlier about needing some convincing?" He nibbled on her earlobe, satisfied as he felt the shiver that went down her spine. 

"I warn you, I'm a stubborn woman. It may take you all night," Charlie whispered breathlessly. 

"Then I guess I'd better get started." Methos picked her up and slung her over his shoulder, and headed towards the bedroom. Halfway there, he 'heard' Charlie's voice in his mind. 

{But what about dinner? I'm hungry.} 

He swatted her gently on the rump, but continued on to the bedroom. {Don't worry, love. I'll satisfy your appetite.} 

* * *

_Cascade Police Department (same evening)_

The bullpen was quiet, most of the detectives having left for the day. Henri Brown and Brian Rafe had just departed, saying goodnight to Jim and Blair. The two men were at their desks, finishing up reports. Both heard the phone ringing in Simon's office, but paid little attention. 

As Simon hung up, he glanced out into the bullpen. Seeing the detective and the anthropologist still working, he went to the door and yelled, "Ellison. Sandburg. Get in here." He was satisfied to see both men jump slightly, startled. He smiled smugly. Couldn't have the troops getting too complacent. 

Both men walked into his office, and Simon motioned them to sit as he closed the door, chuckling. Both men let out sighs of relief at his signs of good humor. "Listen, Dr Jacobs just called." He consulted his notes. "Charlie Pierson will be here tomorrow afternoon. He's staying at the Rainier Arms hotel, room 227. Meet him there at 2:00 pm." 

"Another 'Charlie.' Okay, sir." 

"Good. Listen, I'll give you both the morning off, if you do me one small favor tonight before you head home." He sat back in his chair, putting his cigar into his mouth. 

Jim had a bad feeling about this. "Uh, what favor would that be, sir?" 

"Pick up a warrant from Data and deliver it out to the fugitive unit. The warrant wasn't ready when they left to stake out the suspect's house. They want it in-hand before they go in and arrest the man." 

This was too easy, there had to be a catch. "Who's the warrant for, Captain?" 

"Look, Jim," Simon leaned forward and laid his hands on his desk. "You don't have to do anything. Just deliver the warrant to Detective Groemler, then leave. The Fugitive unit will handle everything." 

Jim wasn't buying it. "Who?" 

Simon gave a disgusted sigh. "Rolly Klienman." 

Jim's clenched his jaw, and Blair turned pale. Neither of them wanted to go anywhere near Klienman again. It's not that the man was a dangerous criminal. Most of his crimes were pretty small stuff-forgery, fraud, and petty larceny. But for all his criminal ways, the man was a soft touch when it came to animals. The last time he'd been arrested, officers had found him living in a one-room apartment with twelve cats, three dogs, four parakeets, and a six-foot long python. The stench was bad enough, but then Rolly would start crying and blubbering about someone taking care of his animals. Then they had to listen to him catalogue, in graphic detail, each and every animal's physical ailments. It was almost enough to make the police want to let him go. 

Jim hung his head, knowing there was no way out of this. Simon was only being polite by asking for 'a favor.' 

"You promise, Simon? I can leave as soon as I deliver the warrant?" 

"You don't even have to get out of the truck. Just give it to Groemler and leave. Nothing to it." 

"'Nothing to it,' he says," Blair muttered as they walked out of his office. "He's not the one that ended up with a snake wrapped around his leg for two hours." He picked up his backpack. "I'm **_not_** doing that again, Jim. No way, no how." 

"You don't have to tell me, Chief. I have no intention of getting mixed up in this. We hand over the warrant, then we hightail it out of there before anybody can even think about requesting our help." 

They headed down to the data center and proceeded to the counter. There was a pretty young brunette sitting in front of a computer and an attractive redhead leaning over her. Both women were intent on the screen but looked up when Jim cleared his throat. The redhead smiled warmly. 

"Detective Ellison, what can I do for you this evening?" 

"Hi, Janice. I came to pick up a warrant." 

She rolled her eyes. "Rolly?" Jim nodded. "You poor man. I'm glad I'm not the one that has to go arrest him. Oh, Detective, this is one of our new trainees, Theresa. Theresa, this is Detective Ellison, from the Major Crimes unit." 

"Welcome to the Cascade PD, Theresa. This is my partner, Blair Sandburg." He motioned to the younger man standing next to him. 

"Hi." Blair said with a smile, his gaze taking in the young woman's features. She blushed under the scrutiny and Jim rolled his eyes, flashing a smile at Janice. He heard Janice's heartbeat pick up and allowed his smile to grow. Soon, Theresa wasn't the only one blushing. 

"Well," Janice stammered, "Let me get that warrant for you." Jim heard Blair chuckling softly, but ignored him. Instead, he watched Janice as she walked to the drawer where the warrants were kept, admiring her shapely form. 

"Here you go, Detective. If you'll just sign this for me." Janice held out the logbook. Jim signed his name and took the warrant from her. 

"Thanks, Janice. You ladies have a good evening." 

"You too, Detective. The two of you be careful out there." Janice called after Jim and Blair as they headed down the hall. 

Blair started to say something, but Jim held up a hand to stop him. Focusing his hearing back to the two women, he overheard Theresa whisper, "Everyone's been telling me how good-looking Detective Ellison is, but nobody mentioned that his partner was such a cutie, too." 

"Oh, I agree that Blair's adorable," Janice whispered back. "But Jim Ellison is a fine specimen of manhood." 

Jim heard the chairs creak. He knew both women had leaned over and were watching as he and Blair walked away. Smiling, he clapped a hand on Blair's shoulder. "C'mon, Chief. I think we've done our bit tonight for promoting good relations between Major Crimes and the Data Center." 

That got Blair's attention. "What? What do you mean? What did you hear, man? What did they say?" 

"Tell you what, Chief. You cook tonight, and I'll tell you over dinner." He walked away with Blair hot on his heels. 

"Hey, that's blackmail. I thought you were above that." 

"This is a one-time offer. Take it or leave it, Chief." He didn't slow down his pace. 

"Jim, that's not fair. C'mon, man..." 

* * *

Jim and Blair were still discussing the two women the next day as they made their way to the hotel room to meet Charlie Pierson. "I still can't believe she called you 'a fine specimen of manhood.' I think you're making that up, man. Now me," he said, tucking his hair behind his ears, "I can do 'cutie.'" 

Jim rolled his eyes at his partner. "I should have known better than to tell you what they said." 

"Hey, don't think I don't appreciate it, Jim. At least I know that I've got a chance when I ask Theresa out." 

"She could be married, Chief." 

"No ring, man, I checked." 

"That doesn't mean she's not involved with someone." The elevator doors opened, and the men started down the hall. 

"True, but the beginning of all knowledge begins with a question. Or words to that effect. Anyway, I won't...Jim, what is it?" he asked, seeing his partner stop in the hallway and look around. 

"I don't know. It's like a vibration in the air, electrical. I can't pinpoint it, though." He cocked his head to the side, trying to place it. "It's like nothing I've ever felt before. Stronger than any kind of machine, but concentrated. Sort of like a discharge after a lightning strike." 

"Okay, man. Take deep breaths. Relax. Now focus on the feeling, let it flow over your skin." Blair lightly touched Jim's back, grounding his Sentinel, thus preventing a zone-out. "That's it, Jim. Feel the vibration. Try to follow it back to its source." 

Jim looked up and down the hallway, finally proceeding in the direction they had been heading. He finally came to a stop outside one of the hotel rooms. "It's in here, Chief. Whatever is causing it, it's in here." He looked up at the room number; 227. 

Blair looked at Jim. "Maybe it has something to do with Pierson." 

"Maybe. Only one way to find out." He knocked on the door. 

A slender man, wearing jeans and a cowl-neck sweater answered the door. "Yes?" 

"Mr Pierson? I'm Detective Ellison, Cascade PD." He showed the man his badge. "This is my partner, Blair Sandburg." He held out his hand, a bit startled at the electricity he felt. Maybe Blair was right and the feeling was connected to the psychic. 

"Detective." he said, returning the handshake. "Mr Sandburg. Come on in." Closing the door behind them, he went to the door of the bathroom. Knocking on it, he said, "Charlie, love. They're here." He turned back to Jim and Blair. "She'll be out in a minute." 

"She?" Blair said softly. 

"By the way, I'm Adam Pierson, Charlie's husband." 

Jim and Blair exchanged glances, both smiling ruefully. "Well," Blair said, "that'll teach us to jump to conclusions." 

"Hey, it was Simon's conclusion. He's the one that led me to believe Charlie was a man." 

"Oh, yeah. Cool. We'll blame it on Simon." 

Adam Pierson's gaze had been moving back and forth between the two men. He chuckled when he made the connection to what they were saying. "It's short for Charlotte, but she likes Charlie better. Have a seat." He indicated the small dining table and chairs. "She won't be much longer." 

The words were no sooner out of his mouth, when the bathroom door opened. A beautiful auburn-haired woman with lively green eyes appeared. Looking into her eyes, Jim instantly felt warmth wash over him, like being wrapped in an old familiar blanket. Like her husband, she was dressed in jeans and a sweater. Padding barefoot over to the table, she held out her hand. "Good afternoon, gentlemen. I'm Charlie Pierson." 

Blair, being closest, held out his hand. "Blair Sandburg." He grabbed her hand. Suddenly, Jim heard a gasp from his partner and Blair's heartrate spiked. Both Blair and Charlie were standing still, frozen, hands still clasped. Their eyes were wide and focused on each other. Then, as quickly as it had begun, it was over. Jim and Adam had to react quickly as both Blair and Charlie swayed. Both men reached out to steady their respective partners, guiding them into the nearby chairs. 

Blair shook his head to clear it. Jim was kneeling down beside the chair. "Chief, what happened? What's going on?" He gazed over at the woman, who seemed just as dazed as Blair. He didn't care how much the psychic could help; he wouldn't work with the woman if she were a danger to Blair. He could see Adam next to her, his hand on her arm. But she was staring right at Blair, who was returning her gaze with a perplexed smile. Jim waved a hand in front of Blair's face. "Yo, Chief, you in there? Somebody tell me what's going on here, please." 

Blair seemed to snap out of it, whatever 'it' was. "What? Jim, oh man. Whoa. What a rush." 

"You scared the hell out of me, Chief. What happened? Are you all right?" 

"Yeah, I think so." Blair looked back at Charlie Pierson, Jim and Adam both forgotten for the moment. "This is gonna sound crazy." 

Charlie chuckled. "I'm a psychic, Mr Sandburg. Not much sounds crazy to me." 

"Blair, please. I...I could swear that I saw a hawk sitting on your shoulder." 

Charlie grinned, her smile lighting up her face, and she nodded. She reached out to grab her husband's hand. "I saw a wolf at your feet." Adam's eyes widened at this, so Jim figured this was not a normal occurrence with her. 

"What!" Blair exclaimed, his eyes wide. "Oh, man, this is like way cool!" He hesitated, chewing on his bottom lip. "It spoke to me." 

"The hawk?" she asked excitedly. "She's never talked to anyone else. What did she say?" 

"Just one word: Mystic." 

"Shaman," she said softly. "The wolf said 'Shaman.'" 

"Oh, man." He turned to Jim, blue eyes wide with excitement. "I..." Blair was speechless, something Jim never thought he'd see. 

"But you're all right? You're not hurt or anything?" Jim asked, now in full Blessed Protector mode. 

Blair shook his head enthusiastically. "No way, man. I feel great, energized." 

Jim groaned in mock horror. "You, energized more than normal? Great, I won't get any sleep for a week." He ducked the playful swat Blair sent his way, then turned to the couple sitting across the table, both of whom were smiling at their banter. "I'm Detective Ellison, Mrs. Pierson." Jim was relieved when she did not extend her hand to him, not wanting to make contact with her. When he met her gaze, he saw the understanding in her eyes, but it didn't totally disguise a flash of hurt. Flushing in shame, he held out his hand to her. "Thank you for coming to Cascade to help us." 

Jim didn't have any visions, but feeling her palm slide across his, the 'security blanket' feeling only intensified. He smiled at her, and saw her relax. As she did so, Jim noticed that her husband relaxed, too. But the guy still looked like he wanted to slug him. Jim couldn't blame him. He felt like he'd kicked a puppy when he'd seen the hurt in the woman's eyes. He hadn't meant to make her feel bad, but Blair's vision had really shaken him up. He sighed, knowing he had some fence mending to do. 

He glanced at the pair again, noticing that they seemed to be engaged in some kind of silent argument. Finally, Adam grunted, threw Jim one more disgusted glance and slumped back into his chair. From their expressions, Jim could only surmise that Charlie had wanted her husband to let it go and he'd reluctantly agreed. 

"Well," he started, "how would you like to handle this, ma'am?" 

"Charlie will do fine, Detective." 

"Jim, then. Okay, Charlie, let me tell you a little bit about the case." 

Charlie held up a hand. "Actually, I'd rather you didn't. It helps me if I don't know anything. That way, I can be sure that whatever impressions I receive aren't clouded by anything you might have told me. It helps me see things a little more clearly." Jim nodded his assent. "I'm assuming that your case involves some type of violent crime. It would be helpful if I could visit the crime scene, if that's possible. See what I can pick up. Also, I do have abilities as a touch-telepath." Seeing the confused looks on Blair and Jim's faces, she explained. "A touch-telepath can pick up information from an object. I could get something about the object's owner or the object itself. If it's associated with violence, I could pick up something about the suspect. Things connected to violence tend to be easier to pick up. The emotions...are louder, the visions clearer." 

"Charlie," Blair asked softly, "if you don't mind my asking, how do you stand it? Seeing visions of violence like that." 

Charlie shivered slightly. "It's not easy. Sometimes the visions are so intense, I tend to get lost." She grabbed Adam's hand. "That's why he's here. He's my anchor." She flashed her husband a loving smile. He returned it, kissing her palm. Neither of them noticed the glance that Blair and Jim exchanged. 

"How do you do that, Adam? If I'm not prying." 

"Not at all. Mostly, it's physical contact. Rubbing her arms, stroking her hair. It keeps her focused, letting her know that she's safe." 

"Whoa." Blair was intrigued with the similarities between what Adam did for Charlie, and what he did for Jim. Looking at Jim, he could see the same thoughts crossing his friend's face. 

Jim shook his head, thinking that maybe he and Charlie were more alike than he thought. He turned his attention back to the matter at hand. "We can get you into the crime scenes, that's no problem. There's more than one, so why don't we plan on doing that tomorrow. And there are a few items that I'd like you to see." He was thinking of the items that been found clutched in each victim's hand. Small momentos that seemed out of place. They didn't belong to the victims or anyone that the victims knew. Jim had a theory that they might belong to the killer. "Why don't we pick you two up tomorrow morning, and get a fresh start. That way, you can rest after your drive down." 

Charlie nodded gratefully. "That's sounds good." 

Blair jumped in. "In the meantime, why don't you let us take you out to dinner tonight? We could be back around six or so to pick you up." 

Adam and Charlie looked at each other, then nodded to Blair. "That sounds good, Blair," Adam said. "Thanks." 

"We'll see you guys later, then. C'mon, Chief, Simon is expecting us at the station at some point. We still have paperwork to do." 

Blair shook his head at Charlie. "He means **_I_** still have paperwork to do." He followed Jim out into the hall, then turned. "See you later." 

Charlie's voice was laced with amusement. "Bye." She closed the door, and turned to her husband. "This is gonna be an interesting case." 

* * *

Blair and Jim took the Piersons to Venegoni's, a moderately priced Italian restaurant. The place was owned by an old Army buddy of Jim's, Mike Venegoni. The dinner conversation was casual and fun, mostly thanks to Blair's bubbling enthusiasm. When he found out that Adam was also a graduate student, majoring in ancient languages, he was ecstatic. Jim listened indulgently as he and Adam shared stories about different expeditions each had been on. Jim didn't understand half of what the two were saying, but it didn't matter. He'd always been proud of his partner's intelligence and knowledge. And he enjoyed watching him interact with someone who shared his passion for past civilizations. Jim met Charlie's eyes, and saw the same feelings reflected there. 

"Wait a minute." Jim heard Blair say, his tone full of awe. "Your grandfather was, like, therewhen they opened Tut's tomb?" 

Adam settled back with his beer. "That's right. Gramps could really tell a story. Sometimes I could almost believe that I was there myself." 

Jim's eyes narrowed as he heard Adam's heartbeat jump slightly. He was positive the man was lying about his grandfather, but for what purpose? Jim made a mental note to ask Adam about that later, when the skin on the back of his neck stood up. He again felt the sensation of an electrical vibration in the air. The same sensation he had felt when they first approached the hotel door and again when they had returned to pick up the Piersons. The feeling had been there ever since, but had dulled into something almost familiar. Jim was positive that Adam was the reason for the earlier vibration, but this wasn't coming from Adam. It was coming from outside the restaurant, and it was getting closer. 

He noticed that Adam had stopped talking at the same time that he felt the sensation. Adam was glancing around, as if looking for something in particular. Jim heard the man's heartbeat start to race, and took note of the wary look on his face. He also picked up signs of Charlie's nervousness. Both he and Adam turned towards the door of the restaurant when it opened. Blair looked confused at the abrupt lapse in the conversation, and threw a questioning glance at Jim. 

A tall, lithe blond woman walked in, wearing a tight leather mini-dress and stiletto heels. Jim could hear both Adam and Charlie's heartbeats return to normal, and Charlie's almost soundless breath of relief. The blonde seemed to be looking around, too, wearing the same expression Adam had moments before. When she spied Adam and Charlie, a smile lit up her face. She walked toward their table, the open flaps of the trenchcoat she was wearing moving against her body in rhythm with her walk. Jim noticed that it was the same type that Adam wore. As she approached, Blair leaned over to whisper in Jim's ear. 

"Jim, you okay, man?" 

"I don't know, Chief," Jim whispered back. "I felt that same sensation as earlier today, but it's coming from her. It's really weird." 

"Adam, Charlie, what a surprise. What are you doing in Cascade?" The blond leaned over and gave each of the Piersons a warm hug. 

"Amanda, it's good to see you," Charlie said. "Actually, we're here on business." 

"Oh." From her tone, Jim figured that Amanda knew what kind of 'business' Charlie was talking about. "Well, I'll leave you all to talk then." 

"No, please," Jim interrupted. "It's not necessary for you to go. This is just a friendly dinner. Please, join us." He pulled out a chair for her. It was obvious that the woman was a close friend of the couple. Besides, Jim wanted to try and get to the bottom of this sensation he was feeling. 

He could feel the woman's gaze rake over him, not missing a detail. She gave the same scrutiny to Blair, then cocked her head to one side. Jim wondered how long she had stood in front of a mirror practicing that move. Then she smiled at him. "Well, if you're sure I'm not intruding..." 

"Not at all." 

Adam snorted. "Like that's ever stopped you before, Amanda." 

Settling into the chair, she threw a glance at Adam. "Oh, behave yourself, and introduce me to your charming dinner companions." 

Adam just chuckled, leaving the introductions up to his wife. "Amanda, this is Detective Jim Ellison, of the Cascade PD and his partner, Blair Sandburg. Gentlemen, this is our very dear friend, Amanda Montrose." 

"A pleasure." Amanda practically purred. "My, my, but the police department sure is getting better-looking recruits these days. Almost makes me wish I'd done something illegal, so I'd have an excuse to be frisked." She leaned closer to Jim. "Tell me, Detective, if I said I was hiding contraband, would you handle the strip search personally?" Her sultry smile at Jim had him turning a bright shade of red, and Blair just about fell off his chair laughing. Amanda turned to Charlie and winked. 

"So, Amanda," Charlie said, stifling a laugh, "Are you going to be in town long?" 

"No. I've finished up my own business. I'm leaving in the morning for Seacouver. I thought I'd visit Duncan, do some shopping." Jim had to stifle a laugh when he heard Adam mutter, 'With Duncan's credit cards, no doubt,' under his breath. Amanda either didn't hear him, or chose to ignore it, as she continued. "I had planned to stop by to see you two, but..." she shrugged. She asked a passing waiter for a glass of white wine. 

"So, what business are you in, Amanda?" Jim asked. 

"I'm doing some free-lance work at the Cascade Museum." 

"Amanda," Adam warned. 

"Relax, Adam. I was working for the museum." She turned back to Jim. "The museum is going to be hosting the 'Gems of the Far East' exhibition. They've installed some new security measures and hired me to test them, to see if they were going to be adequate. They weren't." 

Adam almost choked on his beer. "They hired **_you_** to test the system?" he asked incredulously. "Isn't that a little like asking Casanova to guard the harem?" 

Seated between his wife and Amanda, Adam had no chance to defend himself as both women simultaneously reached out and smacked the arm nearest to them. "Ow," he said, spilling his beer. Setting the bottle on the table, he grabbed a napkin to dab at the drops that had spilled onto his slacks. "See how abused I am, Detective?" 

Amanda turned and graced him with a raised eyebrow. "If that's your idea of abuse, Adam dear, then you've obviously gotten soft in your old age." She accepted her glass of wine from the waiter and took a sip. Jim heard both Blair and Charlie chuckling, and felt the corners of his own mouth turn up. Listening to Amanda and Adam was like listening to a pair of siblings. They could snipe at each other all they wanted, but the underlying affection was obvious, even to someone without heightened senses. 

Amanda turned her attention back to Charlie. "If you two are here, who's watching Snowflake?" 

Adam smirked. "MacLeod." 

Amanda shook her head. "I swear, you could probably talk that man into going over a cliff without a rope. I thought sure that he would never set foot near your place again, after the last time. What was it he called your cat, 'a furry, flea-bit whelp of Satan?'" 

Methos took exception to that statement. "Hey, Snowflake doesn't have fleas," he stated emphatically. Amanda just ignored him. 

Seeing the confused expressions from Jim and Blair, Amanda explained Duncan's last battle of wits with the feline, which produced tears of laughter from Blair. Even Jim had to laugh at her description of the sneak attacks. The jokes and laughter continued through the meal. 

Once their dinner plates were cleared away, a dark-haired man wearing a chef's hat and apron approached their table. The twinkle in his eyes belied the serious expression on his face. "Jim Ellison enjoying himself. Either I've gone crazy, or the pod people have taken over." 

Jim snorted. "You can't have _gone_ crazy, Mike. It's a natural state of mind for you." The man just laughed. "How are you, buddy?" Jim asked. 

"Doing pretty good, Jim. You? How you doing, Blair?" he asked. 

"Good, Mike. Did my taste buds deceive me, or did you try those herbs I mentioned last time?" Blair had mentioned a few herbs that could give Mike's marinara sauce a little more zest. 

"I tried them, all right. I've gotten a lot of compliments, too. Thanks for the tip." 

"Anytime. Mike, let me introduce you to Adam and Charlie Pierson, and this is Amanda Montrose. This is Mike Venegoni, the owner." 

"Evening, folks. I hope you all enjoyed your meals. Any friends of Jim and Blair are friends of mine. Dessert is on me. Just give the waiter your order." 

Amanda's hand went to caress Jim's cheek. "I already know what I want." 

Jim desperately tried to control his expression, but lost the battle when he felt Amanda's other hand on his thigh. He swallowed audibly as he felt the heat rush into his face. He heard Blair snicker at his unease. Mike laughed and clapped him on the shoulder. 

"Whew, it's getting hot out here. I'd better get back to the kitchen, so I can cool off. Jim, I'll give you a call this weekend about the Jags game." 

Jim cleared his throat. "Uh, yeah, Mike, that'd be fine. Later." He glanced around the table, watching everyone watch him. He turned back to Amanda. "Uh, Ms. Montrose..." 

"Amanda, please." 

"Amanda, not that I'm not flattered, but what would, uh, Duncan say about this?" 

"Oh, Duncan and I have a very open relationship." 

"For a couple of Mormons, maybe." Adam interjected, his amusement evident. 

"Oh, be quiet, Adam. You just don't understand how it is between me and Duncan." 

He snorted. "I don't think Duncan understands how it is between you and Duncan." He took a drink of beer. "Amanda, sometimes you can be such a breath of fresh air, and other times you can be such a pain in the ass." He paused, then continued, "This is definitely one of the latter." He ducked the slap she half-heartedly aimed at him. Jim was grateful, because she at least took her hand off his thigh. He shot Adam a look of thanks. 

Blair, also trying to deflect Amanda's attention, grabbed a menu from a passing waiter. "So, what should we have for dessert?" 

With a sigh, Amanda got to her feet, and gathered her coat and purse. "I hate to eat and run, but I really should go. Charlie," she leaned down and gave the woman a hug, "call me at Duncan's when you get back. I should be there for a couple of weeks, at least. Jim, Blair, it was a pleasure meeting you both. I may stop by and say 'hi' the next time I'm in town." She put her coat on and turned to Adam. "Adam, be a dear and walk me to my car, would you?" 

Adam started to protest, but stopped at the look in Amanda's eyes. "Of course. I'll be right back," he said to the others and followed Amanda out of the restaurant. 

Jim excused himself as well, and headed towards the men's room. But, as soon as he was out of sight of the table, he stopped. He turned his hearing up to full volume, and filtered through the sounds until he caught the voices of the two people that had just left the restaurant. 

"...assume you had something you wanted to tell me, Amanda. What's up?" he heard Adam ask. 

"Seeing Duncan was not my only reason for heading to Seacouver. I wanted to warn you. An old friend of Dr Adams' has gotten wind of his presence in Seacouver, and is headed there even as we speak." 

Jim heard Adam curse under his breath. "Who?" 

"Lawrence Jefferson." 

Adam sighed. "Damn. That man always did carry things to extremes, especially his grudges." 

"He seems very determined, if you know what I mean. What, exactly, did you do to get on his bad side?" 

"Oh, the usual. Lied, cheated, helped several of his slaves escape." Jim frowned at that statement. Slaves? Did Adam know someone who was holding people captive? If so, had he reported it to the authorities? And who was Dr Adams? Jim had hoped to get a few answers by listening in, but all he got were more questions. He returned his attention to the conversation when Amanda spoke again. 

"I'm glad you guys are down here. It might be best if you stayed here for a few days. Just to be safe." Jim heard a key turn in the lock, and a car door opening. "I'll let Duncan know what's happening. Maybe we can take care of this before you and Charlie return." 

"No. The last thing I need is for that bloody boy scout to be fighting my battles. You and Duncan both just stay out of his way. I'll handle it, but I don't want Charlie in the middle of it, and I can't leave her right now." He sighed. "You've got my cell phone number. Keep me updated on his whereabouts, but otherwise, stay out of it, okay?" There was no response. "Amanda, are you listening to me?" 

Amanda gave in, but not gracefully. "Oh, all right, Methos. But be careful. 

"Why, Amanda, I'm touched," he said sarcastically. "I didn't know you cared." 

"Oh, you can be so infuriating sometimes. But I remember what Charlie went through during that mess with Cassandra. I don't want to see anything like that happen again. So watch your head." 

Adam's tone softened. "I always do, Amanda. You don't get to be my age without being very careful. But thanks for the warning. I appreciate it." Jim heard the car door close, and he hurried to return to his seat at the table. He had wanted to hear what the two of them would say, but he also wanted to find out if that sensation returned when Adam came back. It would prove to Jim once and for all if the man were there source of the vibration he was feeling. 

He returned to the table just as the waiter was setting down their desserts. Blair dug into his with gusto, and Jim picked up his fork to sample the concoction that Blair had ordered for him. Before he took the first bite, he was hit with that same sensation, and seconds later, Adam came back into the restaurant. Jim now had proof that Adam was the source of the weird sensations he kept feeling. If Adam was really the man's name. And Amanda gave off the same vibration. As everyone finished dessert, Jim's mind kept replaying the conversation that he had overheard. He didn't know if 'Methos' was a nickname or an alias. And then there was the mention of Dr. Adams and the slaves. That bothered Jim. He knew that tomorrow he would do some digging into the computer files. This was a puzzle, and Jim was determined to solve it. 

* * *

They had just closed the door to their hotel room, when Charlie turned to her husband. "Methos, is Jim a pre-immortal?" 

"No," he replied, surprised. "Why?" 

"I happened to be watching him right before you felt Amanda. He felt her, too. I'm almost sure of it. He was looking around, like you do when you feel the buzz." The 'buzz' was an early warning system, a signal that another immortal was nearby. "He noticed you doing the same. Which means he probably also noticed Amanda's reaction. He seemed to relax when it was obvious that Amanda was a friend. But he was eyeing her coat and yours all evening. If I didn't know better, I'd swear he knew the two of you were carrying swords. 

"Damn. He's an observant bugger." He threw himself down on the bed. "This could get sticky, love." 

"I agree that caution is in order, Methos. But honestly, I don't feel that either man is a threat to us. As a matter of fact, there's something very special about both of them. I'm just not sure what it is yet." 

"What exactly happened between you and Blair this morning, anyway? You never did tell me." He couldn't help the touch of jealousy he was feeling. It was intimate, this bond Methos had with Charlie. He wasn't sure he wanted anyone else being able to touch her mind like he did. 

Charlie took off her shirt and climbed on the bed with him. Straddling his legs, she proceeded to relieve him of his sweater. "You could say that our spirit guides decided to say 'hello.'" She caressed Methos' cheek gently, and answered his unspoken thoughts. "Don't worry. You do more than touch my mind, Methos. You live in my heart and soul. You take my breath away, and give me such joy. You have no reason to feel jealous." Charlie's hands moved down his chest toward the zipper of his jeans. He soon forgot about the detective and his partner. He soon forgot about everything but his wife. 

Neither of them realized that a block away, two men sat in a blue and white truck. Jim turned his hearing back down to normal when the conversation between husband and wife turned intimate. He related the conversation to Blair, both men puzzling over the talk of immortals and swords. They both agreed that until they got more information, they wouldn't tell anyone just yet. That included Simon. 

"Not that I believe one damn word of this, Chief. If the two of them believe that Adam/Methos is immortal, then they both need to be locked up in padded cells." 

"I don't know, Jim. There have been rumors on the Internet for years about a secret society that watches a group of immortals. Nothing's been proven, though." 

"Sandburg, there have been rumors that Elvis and JFK are still alive, too. But until I meet up with either of them face-to-face, I'm not taking anyone's word for it." 

"What do you want him to do, survive a fatal wound while you watch?" 

Jim started up the truck and put it into drive. "Hey, if he's immortal, should be a piece of cake." 

* * *

"...then she asked if he would be the one to strip search her. Man, it was unbelievable. He turned red so many times last night, I thought sure he was gonna have heatstroke." Jim's enhanced hearing picked up the tail end of the conversation halfway down the hall. He hoped Simon was the only one hearing this. Cause if Blair was telling this to everyone in the bullpen, Jim was gonna have to kill him. 

He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw the two men in Simon's office with the door closed. He could handle some ribbing from Simon, but he _really_ didn't want last night's events going around the department locker room. He nodded to Brown and Rafe before heading to Simon's office and knocking on the door. Simon motioned for him to come in. 

"Captain," Jim said, closing the door behind him, "I've got the results back from our search this morning. Interesting reading." He sat down next to Blair and opened the first file. 

"Amanda Montrose, AKA Amanda McKay, AKA Mandy Miller, etc, etc. She's got a lengthy rap sheet with Interpol. Seems she's a suspect in more than a dozen different jewel heists spanning three continents and ten years. But nobody's been able to prove anything. Some of them have been pretty ingenious thefts, Simon. A few of the victims weren't even aware that anything was missing for several days." 

"Well, that's not unusual, Jim. Sometimes people don't wear their jewels for weeks at a time." 

Jim looked at him steadily. "Most of the victims were museums, Simon. She was able to bypass elaborate security systems, and get away clean. They didn't even know what hit them." 

Blair snickered. "So that's what Adam meant about Casanova guarding the harem. Pretty ironic that the museum would ask a jewel thief how to guard their jewels." 

Jim couldn't help but laugh. "Yeah, but all the same, I think the Cascade Museum should be warned. I can't believe that they would hire someone like her to test their security. You'd think they would have checked her out." 

"Maybe she's reformed, Jim. It's been known to happen. Who better to test their security than someone who got around it for a living?" 

"The last theft was in Paris two weeks ago, Chief. She headed to the states right afterward. I doubt she's suddenly seen the error of her ways." 

Simon took the cigar out of his mouth. "Hell, you mean we may have a possible theft in the making? I don't like the sound of this." 

"Well, at least we have an idea where she'll be for a while anyway, Simon. She said she was headed up to Seacouver to visit some guy named Duncan." 

"Was this before or after her hand went creeping up your thigh?" Simon's eyes gleamed with amusement. Blair snickered. Jim turned a resigned eye on the young observer. 

"Just how much did you tell him, Chief?" 

"Pretty much all of it, man. You gotta admit, Tough Guy, it was funny. You should be flattered. That's two women in two days that think you're some kind of hunk." 

"Two?" Simon asked. "And who, pray tell, was the other one? Not another criminal, I hope?" 

Jim shot a glare at his partner, but Blair was too busy relating the tale to Simon to notice. "No, this one works down in Data. She thinks Jim is a 'fine specimen of manhood.' Or at least, that's what Jim says." 

"When you've got it, you've got it, Junior." Jim remarked, thinking back to Janice's reaction. She really was an attractive lady. 

"Hey, I've got it, too. Remember that you told me Theresa thinks I'm a cutie. Besides, even Janice thinks I'm adorable," he said with a smirk. 

Simon rubbed his eyes, trying to hide his amusement at the by-play between the two men. "I'm going to need to see about giving our data staff pysch evals before they're hired. Obviously, a couple of them are unstable." He gave each man a fierce glare. "Just do me a favor, and try not to screw up. I really don't want all of Major Crime's reports to turn up missing because a couple of the women down there are mad at you two." 

"Yes, sir," both men murmured. 

"In the meantime, I'll put in a call to the curator at the museum. Now, what else have you got?" he asked, motioning to the files Jim held. 

"Adam Pierson is a grad student at Seacouver University. He's highly respected in his field, and has an almost uncanny ability to pick up obscure languages as if he's been speaking them all his life. He moved around quite a bit before his marriage to Charlie Pierson: Paris, London, New York. His background is a little sketchy, which makes me nervous. I overheard Amanda and he talking last night, and later when he was with Charlie. Both women called him 'Methos.' I can't find any mention of that name in the computer, though. Something about him makes me antsy." He held up a hand to stop the comment he could see Blair preparing to make. "I know, Chief, but it's not just that sensation I felt." 

Simon glared at Jim. "Wait a minute, Jim. What sensation are you talking about?" 

"When we went to the hotel yesterday to meet Charlie, I felt this weird vibration in the air. Sort of like after a lightning strike. The air felt... charged. It was so strong, but concentrated. I felt it halfway down the hall. It was the weirdest feeling. We figured it might be connected to Charlie's abilities. But she's not the source, her husband is." 

"Are you sure about this, Jim?" 

"Positive, Simon. When he left to walk Amanda to her car, the feeling dissipated. When he came back, it came back." He took a deep breath. "Amanda gave off the same vibration. I felt her before she walked into the restaurant last night. And I'm sure Adam did, too. And I think Amanda felt him." He saw the skepticism in Simon's eyes. "I know it sounds like something out of the 'Twilight Zone', Simon. I can't explain it. I'm just telling you what I think." 

"But how do they 'feel' each other?" 

"I think the vibration is the key, I just don't know how it fits yet." 

"Why is it that you two always get all the strange cases?" he asked in exasperation. 

"Just lucky, I guess, Simon." Blair said with a shrug. Simon just glared at him. 

Jim turned to the next file. "Charlotte Pierson, formerly Charlotte Monroe. She and Adam have been married for nearly seven years. She used to live in LA. About eight years ago, she was the victim of a kidnapping. It turned out to be part of a white slavery ring being operated by a Cambodian named Vin, who was assigned to the consulate in LA." He was interrupted by a knock on the door. All three men looked up to see Joel Taggert. Simon motioned him in, but indicated to Jim to continue. 

"Anyway, Adam, Amanda and two other men, Duncan MacLeod and Richard Ryan, flew down to LA. With the help of a private investigator named Paquette, they managed to find out where she and two other women were being held. They notified the police and SWAT went in to rescue them. Charlie and one other woman survived. The third died of a drug overdose. Police think that the kidnappers were trying to kill the women once they'd been discovered." 

"That P.I. wouldn't by any chance be John Paquette, would it?" Joel asked. 

"Yeah, that what it says," Jim answered, checking the file. 

"You know him, Joel?" Simon asked his friend. 

"Yeah. I met him a few years ago at a conference in Portland. He was the man that diffused a bomb that was found during the LA Olympics in '84. He came to talk at the conference about home-grown terrorism." Joel chuckled. "The first thing I noticed was this T-shirt he was wearing. It said, 'Bomb Disposal unit. If you see me running, you'd better keep up!' I had to find out where he'd gotten it, so I went up and introduced myself. We ended up talking over dinner for about four hours about different cases we'd each worked on. We still keep in contact." 

"Any chance you could ask him about a Charlie Pierson and a case in LA about eight years ago? I'd like to know what his take on her and Adam Pierson was." 

"I can try, Jim. But if he was working for them as a private detective, he probably won't say much. Client confidentiality and all that. Oh, here, Simon. These are the reports you asked for on the Delaney case. I just came by to drop them off." He handed Simon a folder. "I'll give John a call a little later today, Jim, and let you know what he has to say." 

"I didn't know that they'd found a bomb during the LA Games." Blair said. 

"They kept it hushed up. The powers that be didn't want to alarm the public or the athletes. There was enough tension going on, with Russia refusing to attend. Something like that could have created major problems." 

Blair nodded in agreement. "I hear that." 

Simon stuck his cigar in the side of his mouth. "As far as anyone outside this room is concerned, no you didn't." 

Blair shot Simon a mock salute. "Aye, sir." Joel just laughed as he left the office. 

Jim went back to reading Charlie's file. "Anyway, about six months after the kidnapping, she moved to Seacouver and in with Adam. She went to work for the Institute. Get this, _she_ was the one that ended up fighting that serial killer with a sword." 

"That was her?" Blair asked in awe. "Whoa." He and Jim exchanged a glance, both thinking back to the conversation that Jim overheard about immortals and swords. At least they had an explanation as to why she'd had a sword. Obviously, it belonged to her husband. 

"There's more," Jim said. "On their wedding anniversary a few years later, Charlie was broadsided by a tractor-trailer. She almost died. She was in the hospital for several weeks, suffering from amnesia on top of the other injuries." He handed Simon the file. 

Simon read over the facts for himself. "Kidnapped, a near-fatal car accident, and she has to fight off a serial killer." He looked up. "Is this woman a relative of yours, Sandburg?" 

"You are _so_ not funny, Simon." 

Jim laughed. "You've gotta admit, Chief, she seems to attract as much trouble as you do. Maybe that 'vision' you two shared yesterday was actually a warning to each of you. You know, double the trouble." 

"I'm probably going to regret asking this," Simon said wearily. "But what are you talking about? What vision?" 

They explained what had happened the day before. Simon took off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. He sighed. "I thought we had enough problems with a serial killer on the loose, and trying to keep Jim's secret from this psychic. Now you're telling me, Sandburg, that you and this woman are in contact on a spiritual level. I'm getting too old for this shit." 

"Nah, you'll never be too old, Simon. Your aura is ageless, man." Blair grinned mischievously. Simon wasn't amused. He turned to Jim. 

"Ellison, get him out of here, before I drop-kick his butt down an elevator shaft." 

"C'mon, Chief," Jim said, grabbing Blair's arm. "We have to go meet Charlie and Adam, anyway. Later, oh ageless one," Jim remarked, quickly closing the door behind him before Simon could find anything to throw. He and Blair laughed all the way down to the garage. 

* * *

It was cold and rainy when Methos pulled his rental car up behind Jim's truck. The Washington weather had again lived up to it reputation for changing drastically. After more than a week of sunshine and warm temperatures, the hint of fall was finally coming to Cascade. 

The other two men were already out and waiting for them on the sidewalk. He and Charlie joined them and the foursome walked up to the small, one-story house that was the latest crime scene. Charlie could see the tape still in place over the front door. Jim had warned her that this scene hadn't been touched since forensics had finished, so evidence of the crime was still in place. Charlie took a deep breath as Jim moved the tape aside and entered the house. 

Sensing her nervousness, Methos enfolded her hand in his, lacing their fingers together. {Easy, love. I'm right here.} She smiled back at him, though it didn't reach her eyes. Turning to Jim, she asked, "Do you have your tape recorder with you?" He nodded. "Okay, Adam will let you know when to start it." 

Charlie looked around the living room of the house. Its appearance was undisturbed. Without being told, she then headed unerringly to the bedroom in the back of the house. Seeing the blood-spattered wall and the outline of a body still on the floor brought her to a standstill. It took an encouraging squeeze from her husband's hand to bring her back to the present. Charlie closed her eyes and tried to focus on what was unseen. With her mind focused inward, and Methos' concentration on her, neither paid attention to the pair silently observing them. Things were silent for several minutes, then Methos nodded to Jim. He could see the detective switch on the small tape recorder he held. Charlie was in the middle of the room when she started to speak. 

"Olivia Giroux. She was a writer. This house was her pride and joy. She loved it here. She enjoyed working in the garden out back." With her eyes closed, she didn't see Jim and Blair exchange a look before they focused on her again. "She...came out of the bathroom after her shower. He was already in the room. She...backed up against the wall, hoping he'd take what he wanted and leave. But then...he...started moving toward her. She was so afraid." Charlie almost sobbed in reaction to the flashes of memory she was receiving. "Oh, God," she whimpered, as she fell to her knees. Adam was next to her, gently stroking her hair, murmuring reassurances to her. 

"She didn't even see the tazer in his hand. Not until she felt the pain in her side. There was so much pain. She fell, she couldn't move, couldn't defend herself. She didn't understand why. Why her? Who was he?" She trailed off, crying, as she leaned back into her husband's arms. Once her sobs abated, she gazed up at Jim, her eyes bright with unshed tears. "He, he slit her throat. He stayed and watched her bleed to death, watched her struggle to get air. It amused him," she accused raggedly. Jim nodded, his jaw clenched. Charlie sensed his anger, but knew it wasn't directed at her. She hiccuped unevenly, letting the feel of Methos' arms give her the sense of safety and security she desperately need. Finally pulling herself together, she allowed Jim to help her to her feet. Charlie turned and headed for the door, not stopping until she was outside by the car. All three men followed wordlessly, letting her breathe in the fresh air and relax. 

She saw them gathered around her. Looking up into the detective's blue gaze, she expected to see fear; of her or her 'gift' she wasn't sure. She certainly didn't expect to see the sorrow and empathy he felt for what she was going through. That helped her to regroup. She indicated the recorder he still held in his hand. 

"Yeah, it's still on. Do you want to take a minute to gather your thoughts?" he asked gently. 

She reached blindly for Methos' hand, but shook her head. "No, it's okay. Thanks. The killer didn't try to hide his face from her. He was confident that she wouldn't live to tell anyone about him." 

"Did you see his face back there? Can you give us a description?" 

"I'm...not sure. There were a lot of other things going on. The emotions are so strong, it's hard to focus on what she saw before..." 

Methos started rubbing her arms. "Relax. Let yourself drift back. Identify the emotions then put them aside. Let them go. Let your mind take you back to that moment she first saw him. What did he look like? How tall was he?" 

"Um...5'9", 5'10". Maybe 6'0". Between 25-35 years old. Stocky build. Blonde hair, brown...no, blue eyes. No, that's wrong..." 

"Wrong, how?" 

Charlie's eyes opened wide. "They were both, I mean, one of each. One blue eye, one brown eye." 

"Are you sure?" Jim asked. 

Charlie nodded. "Yeah, but don't ask me if they were the real colors, or contacts. I don't know." 

"Well, it's a start anyway. Was there anything unusual about his clothing, or how he carried himself?" 

"No. He was dressed all in black, nothing unusual. I'm sorry that I can't give you more." 

Jim laid a hand on her shoulder and squeezed gently. "We have more than we did an hour ago. Are you ready to go to the next scene, or do you want to rest for awhile?" 

She smiled at him, in silent thanks for his courtesy. "No, let's go. I'd just as soon get them all out of the way, then rest." 

Jim nodded in agreement. "Okay, follow us." 

* * *

Simon came out of his office the next morning, laying the file in his hands on Jim's desk. He looked around the bullpen, seeing that the other detectives hadn't made it in yet. "So, Ellison, how is it going? Any progress yet?" 

Jim looked up from his paperwork. "Actually, yeah, Captain. Charlie gave us a basic description of the perp. She's due in here any minute to talk to the sketch artist, see if we can get a composite drawing. Then I'm gonna have her go over the 'momentos' the killer left at the scenes." 

"So, she's working out okay?" Simon asked, talking around the cigar in his mouth. 

Jim hesitated before answering. "She's completely different from Charlie Springer. She's not looking for notoriety. As a matter of fact, I think she actively shies away from it. It's like she's not real thrilled that she has these gifts, but she's determined to use them to help people." 

Simon looked down at his best detective. "Sounds a little like someone I know." Jim smiled at that. 

"Yeah, that thought has crossed my mind. She and I seem to have a lot in common, including our partners." 

"What do you mean?" 

"Well, it seems like her husband plays a similar role for her that Blair does for me. He anchors her, talks her through the bad stuff." Jim went on to explain Adam's actions of the previous day. "Look, Simon, I'm not saying that I'd want to bring in a psychic everytime we hit a dead-end on a case, but with her I'm not having to pamper an ego. She tells me what she's 'receiving', then leaves me to do what I want with the information. And I'm not looking over my shoulder constantly for a news crew. It's been easier dealing with her than it was dealing with Springer." 

"So if we ever did need help again, you wouldn't have a problem working with her?" 

"None. I can't deny her abilities, Simon. She knew things about the victims that hadn't been released to the public. As a matter of fact, she told us a couple of things _we_ didn't even know." 

"Like what?" 

"She knew the killer used a tazer on the victims to incapacitate them. You know we didn't release that to the press. She knew that Terry Kruger, our second victim, had been married at age 19, and that the marriage lasted all of six weeks. Then she proceeded to tell me that victim #4, Becky Sorenson, had given up a child for adoption at age 16. I checked it out. She was right." 

"C'mon, Jim, that's not totally conclusive. She could have done some digging to find that stuff out; it's all a matter of public record. And it's possible that the info about the tazer could have been leaked by someone in the department." Simon said, playing devil's advocate. 

"That's what I told myself, too." Jim leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. "But she knew that Sorenson had been garroted, rather than cut with a knife. Only you, Sandburg, Dan and I knew that. I haven't put that into any of the reports." 

Simon reached up for his cigar, turning it over absently in his hand. "She knew that? 

Jim nodded. "If you could have seen what she went through yesterday at the crime scenes. I mean, it's one thing for us to see a scene and imagine what the victim felt and saw before they died. But to actually _experience_ their feelings and memories at that final moment. I'm not sure I'd have to guts to put myself in that position, Simon. She is one hell of a lady. If she were military, she'd definitely get my vote for a medal. Courage under fire and all that, ya know?" 

Both men heard the soft gasp behind them, and turned to see Charlie in the doorway. There was a surprised look on her face, and tears in her eyes. "Thank you, Detective. I think that's the nicest thing anyone has said about me and my gifts in a long time." 

Jim flushed, remembering his initial reaction in the hotel room. He motioned her into the bullpen, and introduced her to Simon. "Where's Adam?" 

"Parking the car. He'll be here in a minute." She sat in the chair that Jim indicated. "So, what's the game plan?" 

"Well, first we're going to sit you down with our sketch artist. I want to try to get a composite picture of our killer. Think you can do that?" 

"I'll try." 

"Great." Before Jim could go on he felt that vibration that he'd come to relate to Adam. The sensation surrounded him, and he looked toward the door. Sure enough, seconds later, Adam appeared. Jim was so focused on Adam that he almost missed Charlie's question. "I'm sorry, what did you say?" 

Charlie looked up at him, perplexed. "I asked if you were okay. You looked kinda zoned-out there for a second." Neither paid attention to Simon's sudden fit of coughing. 

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just lost my train of thought for a minute there. Simon," he said, turning to his superior, "this is Charlie's husband, Adam." 

"Mr. Pierson," Simon said in greeting, extending his hand. "Well, Jim, I'll leave you to it. Keep me updated, and let me see the drawing as soon as it's done." 

"Will do, sir," he said to Simon's back. "Well, let's get you guys settled in one of our interrogation rooms. It'll be quiet and will give you and the artist a little privacy. Once he's done, I've got some pieces of evidence I'd like you to take a look at." They both nodded, following Jim into one of the rooms normally used to interview suspects and witnesses. Jim got them settled, then asked if either wanted anything to drink. 

"Water would be great, thanks." 

"I'll be right back." He closed the door behind him and headed to the employee break room. But he kept his hearing trained back on the couple he'd just left, hoping that they would let something slip. Unfortunately for Jim, even Sentinel hearing didn't allow him to eavesdrop on the conversation that was taking place. If he had, he'd have been very worried. 

* * *

Even before the door closed, Charlie was communicating with Methos through their telepathic link, knowing it wasn't safe to talk openly within the confines of the police department. {I'm telling you, he knew you were coming into the room before you got there. He got that same look you get right before Duncan or Amanda shows up. Are you _sure_ he's not one of you?} 

{You said he and Blair were special, and you're right, they are. But it's not because either of them is immortal.} 

{Then what is it?} 

{I've been watching them both very closely. I think our friendly neighborhood detective is a Sentinel. And I think Blair is more than just a Shaman. I think he's the Sentinel's companion.} 

Charlie was confused, never having heard the term before. {What is a Sentinel? And why would he need a companion?} 

{A Sentinel is an individual who has all of his senses enhanced. All five are enhanced above the normal human capacity. Back in the olden days, when most people still lived in tribes, the Sentinel was responsible for the tribe's protection and welfare. It was his job to warn the tribe of danger, and to find good game for the hunt. The companion helps him control and focus those senses. He or she keeps the Sentinel from getting lost, keeps him grounded.} 

{How do you know that Jim is one of these 'Sentinels'?} 

{I was watching him when we went to the park yesterday afternoon, after we finished at the crime scenes. He ordered coffee from that little stand for everybody. We all had it from the same pot. Yet, he grimaced like it was bitter, but it tasted just fine to me. Then that guy raised a dog whistle to his mouth and Jim flinched. Only a person with enhanced hearing could have heard something that high pitched. And you remember that woman that was wearing the ton of perfume?} 

{Yeah, it was enough to make me gag.} 

{Ellison started coughing and his eyes started watering while she was still a good hundred yards away.} 

{Do you think his senses are allowing him to feel your 'buzz?'} 

{Probably. The Sentinels that I met previously were always able to detect us.} 

{Have you met many?} Charlie was curious now. 

{A few. But Ellison is the first one I've met in three or four hundred years. They're just not as prevalent anymore.} Methos could see that Charlie was worried. {Look, we don't have to stay. We can always leave.} 

Charlie hesitated. {No, I can't, not after what I saw yesterday. If I can help them catch this monster, I have to try. This killer has to be stopped.} 

Methos pulled Charlie into his arms. {Okay. We'll do what we can. Let's just hope the good detective doesn't go prying too deep.} 

{I still don't feel like he's a threat, Methos.} 

{I hope you're right, Charlie. Sentinels are usually good people at heart. But things are different now then they were centuries ago. We'll just have to hope he doesn't decide to go digging into my past. But if he does find out my secret, then we'll tell him that we know his. Maybe we can strike a bargain.} Charlie sighed. {Look, Charlie, let's just take this one step at a time. You'll help him with his case. That's why we came down here. If you can give him the help he needs, maybe he'll concentrate on his case, and forget about us.} 

{Maybe.} Charlie answered in her mind, but she didn't sound any more convinced than her husband did. 

Disappointed that the couple didn't talk while he was gone, Jim returned to the room. "All right, I brought a whole pitcher for you..." 

* * *

Blair was sitting at his usual spot in front of Jim's computer when Jim returned from the evidence room. His glasses were perched on his nose and he was steadily typing on the keyboard, while he traded good-natured quips with Henri Brown and Brian Rafe, who were sitting at the adjoining desks. 

"Hey, how did it go in class today, Chief?" 

Blair looked up from the screen, his blue eyes twinkling. "It was great, Jim. This group has to be one of my favorites this semester. These kids are so enthused about the material, man. It's a blast to see them debating theories and really getting into the class." His hands were moving almost as fast as his words. 

Jim laid a hand on Sandburg's shoulder, his pride in his young friend evident. "Seems to me, Darwin, that you could have the most interesting class to teach, but without a good teacher, the students don't get much out of it. You said yourself that this was one of your favorite classes. Maybe having the teacher so psyched about the material gets the kids psyched. It's a catch-22 situation. The best kind, if you ask me." 

Blair flushed from Jim's compliment, something he knew the big man didn't give without meaning it. "Thanks, man. It's days like this that I really love teaching." He spied the plastic zip-lock™ bags that Jim had laid on the desk. "What do you have there?" 

"The evidence from our victims in the serial killer case. I want Charlie to go over them, see if she can pick up anything, maybe find out why the killer placed them in the victims' hands. Maybe it'll give us a clue, I don't know." 

"Where is she now?" 

"She and Adam are in one of the interview rooms with the sketch artist, trying to get a composite drawing of the killer that she saw in her visions yesterday." 

"Do you think she's going to be of much help, Jim?" Rafe asked. Ellison had told Rafe and his partner, H Brown, that they'd brought in a psychic to help on the case. Jim was surprised that both men took it in stride. 

"She's already given us a description, Rafe. She's in now with the artist. Hopefully, we'll get a good picture of this maniac, and can try to ID him. 

"Well, we've finished our paperwork, and Rafe has an appointment right after lunch. If you want, I can take the composite and run it through the database, see if we can find a match," Brown offered. 

"That would be a big help, H, thanks. That way, I can concentrate on the other stuff I want her to look over. Hey Joel." Jim said, catching sight of the man walking into the squad room. "Did you have a chance to contact that investigator?" 

"Yeah, I talked to him last night. He wouldn't go into detail about his dealings with them, said it was confidential and I should just ask them. But there's more going on there than a simple client/investigator relationship. Before I mentioned why I was asking, the first words out of his mouth were 'are they in trouble? I can be there in a couple of hours.' John's not the type to do that, unless it's someone important to him." 

"Thanks for trying anyway, Joel." He raised an eyebrow at Blair. "This just gets more and more curious, Chief." He was about to go on when Pete Cruz, the sketch artist, walked in. 

"Hey, Detective. Here you are," he said, handing over the sketch. "The lady's got a real eye for detail. I wish all our witnesses were this observant." Jim hadn't mentioned that Charlie was a psychic, and apparently Charlie hadn't mentioned it either. Jim let the remark pass without correcting the man. 

"Thanks, Pete. C'mon, Chief, let's tell Simon that H is gonna try and ID our possible suspect. Then we'll see what Charlie can tell us about these," he said, holding the evidence bags aloft. 

After updating Simon, Jim detoured to the break room to refill his coffee. Blair poked his head around the door of the interview room. "Hey, Jim wants to know if you two want to take a ten minute break before we get started again." 

Charlie looked up wearily. She looked drained and pale. "That sounds good. If you could point me in the direction of the ladies room?" 

"Down the hall and to the left. Adam, the men's room is to the right. Do either of you want anything besides water?" 

Charlie thought for a minute. "No, water is okay for me. But I could use some chocolate. Something with nuts in it." 

"You got it. Adam?" 

"No, I'll wait until we go to lunch." 

"Okay, we'll meet you back here in a few minutes." 

After they had all returned to the room, Jim spread out five clear zip-lock ™ bags on the table. They were each marked with the victim's name, case number, date and the description of the item it contained. 

| TEXT | TEXT  
---|---|---  
  
_Juliet Latimer_ |  99-C1915 | 01-17-99 | silver locket  
---|---|---|---  
_Terry Kruger_ |  99-C2736 | 01-27-99 | jade figurine  
_Erica Serrano_ |  99-C4843 | 02-11-99 | baby picture  
_Becky Sorenson_ |  99-C6266 | 02-28-99 | blue ribbon  
_Olivia Giroux_ |  99-C7542 | 03-05-99 | coin/unknown origin  
  
"Okay, Charlie. You said you had abilities as a touch-telepath. What exactly does that encompass?" Jim asked her. 

"Basically, I have to handle the object. I generally get information about the owner if it's a special item. If it's old, I can pick up on past owners. If it's associated with violence or pain, I tend to pick up on that a little easier, because the emotions are more pronounced." 

Jim nodded. "Okay. These were found clenched in the hands of the victims. The families can't ID them. I need to know if they belong to the killer." 

"Okay, I'll do my best." She reached for the bag containing the locket. It was found with the killer's first victim. Taking a deep breath, she reached into the bag and withdrew a silver locket. Its finish was dulled by age, but the exquisite care taken in it's making was still evident. The detailed scrollwork on the lid of the locket was no less beautiful now than it must have been when it was first made. 

Charlie fingered the locket for several moments, eyes closed. A frown began to appear on her face. Opening her eyes, she put the locket down and reached for the bag from victim #2 and removed the jade figurine. She again closed her eyes, turning the figure over in her hands. She shook her head slightly, and opened her eyes. "This isn't right," she murmured softly. 

"What's wrong, Charlie?" Jim asked. "What's not right?" 

"The names. The items are in the wrong bags." 

"What?" 

"They're in the wrong bags." She took the remaining items out and laid them on top of their respective bags. Fingering all the items one by one, she then proceeded to redeposit them on top of a different evidence bag. The locket she put on the bag bearing Terry Kruger's name. The blue ribbon, the kind given out for scholastic achievements, she put with Olivia Giroux's name. The baby picture went with Becky Sorenson's name, and the jade figure was placed next to Erica Serrano's name. After she was done rearranging, Juliet Latimer's bag was empty, and the coin was off to the side by itself. Charlie picked up each of the items again, one by one. Satisfied, she replaced them all as she had arranged them. 

"There. Now it's right." 

Jim looked at Charlie, then down at the bags. He shook his head. "Charlie, I was at each one of the crime scenes. They were in the right bags. I personally removed all but one of the items from the victims' hands. The bags were marked by me." 

"I understand, Jim. But I'm telling you whom those items belonged to. They didn't belong to the victim you found them on. And they don't belong to the killer." 

Blair was practically bouncing in his seat. "Jim, look at the pattern," he said excitedly. "Victim #1 was clutching something belonging to victim #2. Victim #2 had something of victim #3's..." 

If finally dawned on Jim where Blair and Charlie were going with this. "So when he kills his victims, he's already got the next one picked out." 

"And has stolen something belonging to her," Blair added. "And that means the coin..." 

"...belongs to the next victim," the two men chorused. 

"That means we have a chance to save her. Blair," he looked at his partner, "go see if Brown can call the victim's families. Try to get them down here to positively ID the items. Then tell Simon what we've discovered." 

"Right, Jim." Blair quickly exited the room. 

"Charlie..." Jim began, only to be interrupted by Adam. 

"Have the families ID the items, huh, Detective?" he asked sarcastically. "What's wrong, you don't trust Charlie's word? You think she's making this up?" 

"Adam," Charlie laid a hand on his arm, trying to calm him down. 

Jim looked at Adam steadily. "There's no doubt in my mind that Charlie is telling the truth, Adam. But this way, everything is tied up nice and neat for the judge. If we can show that the families identified the items as belonging to their loved ones, maybe your wife won't be needed to testify to that in court." 

Adam leaned back with a sigh. "Sorry. I guess I'm just a little touchy." 

Jim smiled. "I didn't exactly make things easier with my reaction the first time we met. I'm truly sorry for that. I don't doubt Charlie's abilities, but this is a good way to back everything up, so that if and when we get to trial, we've got this guy nailed two ways to Sunday." He looked at Charlie. "The more tangible evidence we get, the less you'll have to be involved in the actual trial. I'm not saying we can keep you out of it altogether, but we're going to try our best to keep your name out of this, as requested." 

"I know, Jim. I know that you may have to bring up my abilities at the trial. I've had to testify before. I know the less you rely on me, the stronger your case, and the better your chances for conviction. Do what you need to do." She threw an exasperated glance at her husband. "I think Adam understands, don't you, darling?" 

"Of course, my love," Adam said, giving a courtly bow. Jim was impressed that he could manage that gracefully while seated. He may have his doubts about Pierson, but it was obvious that the man adored his wife. Jim couldn't fault him for that. He momentarily thought about just forgetting trying to figure out the mystery behind this man, but he quickly quashed it. His curiosity was peaked, and he knew he wouldn't let this go. 

He shook his head to clear it, and focused once again on Charlie. "Okay, so we know that the coin belongs to his next victim. Let's see if we can figure out who she is. How do we proceed?" 

* * *

Late the next afternoon the four of them went to Simon's office to give him an update. "We believe the coin belongs to Trisha Stanley. Which means she is probably the killer's next intended victim," Jim told his captain. 

Simon took his unlit cigar out of his mouth. "Fill me in on exactly how you tracked this woman down. What led you to her?" 

Jim glanced at Charlie. "Do you want to start?" She nodded, then turned to the captain. 

"In handling the coin, several impressions came to me. The woman it belonged to is in her late twenties. She's a high-school teacher, and she's also a runner. Her father had given her the coin, which he had found several years ago during a trip to Greece. She was very close to her father, so it's very special to her. The woman lost both of her parents in a car accident last year, and inherited their house. I got a clear picture of the house and the surrounding area. I described that to Jim." 

Jim took over the explanation. "When she mentioned the old stadium, I knew the area of town she was talking about. Early this morning we went for a drive. Charlie was able to locate the house she had seen. I did a reverse directory, and came up with Miss Stanley's name. We checked her out, and everything fit with what Charlie had picked up. Miss Stanley teaches math at Cascade Junior High, and is also the school's track coach. She was an alternate on the US Olympic team in '94. She's twenty-eight years old. Her parents had gone to Greece five years ago, after her father retired. And they were both killed last May by a drunk driver." 

Simon nodded. "So we may know who the next victim is. Any ideas on the identity of our suspect yet?" 

"Brown was able to pull a couple of names from our database, and we're getting pictures faxed over. Also, Charlie got a feeling that the perp may have strong ties to Chicago. I had Data send a teletype to Chicago PD and the surrounding agencies asking for information. Data said they'd page me when they got any responses." 

"So what's the next step, Jim?" 

"I want to go talk to Miss Stanley and see if she can positively identify the coin. If so, we can take her into protective custody, and set up a decoy. But if this guy doesn't try anything this weekend, we'll have to rethink that. He may be watching her. If we try and substitute a decoy for longer, he may move onto someone else." 

"Sounds good. Keep me updated, Jim." Simon turned to Charlie. "Mrs. Pierson, thank you for all the help." Charlie accepted his handshake, but then her eyes closed and a frown marred her pretty face. 

"Captain, you have a son." 

"Yeah, Daryl. I'm actually due to pick him up. It's my weekend to have him." 

"He's...not feeling well." 

Simon's smile faded. "What do you mean?" 

"His mother thinks it's the flu, but I think you should have someone look at his appendix." 

Simon's eyes widened. He looked at Jim, who nodded at him, indicating that he should trust what Charlie was saying. Simon in turn nodded to Charlie. "I'll make an appointment with his doctor. Thank you." She smiled. He turned back to Jim and Blair. "You two go to work. And keep me informed. Now get out of here, I need to go see my son." He turned to pick up his coat, following the four out of his office. 

"Jim, we may have a name on our suspect," Brown said as they exited Simon's office. "Guy by the name of Philip Talbot." He handed Jim a grainy black and white photo. Everyone crowded around to see. Except for the hair length and mustache in the picture, it was almost identical to Charlie's composite drawing. "I ran the guy's rap sheet," Brown continued. "He's got family back in Chicago and has done time in Joliet. I had the folks in Data update your request to Chicago PD asking for more info on him." 

"Good job, H. Any ideas on where we can find this guy?" 

"Not yet, but I've got feelers out." The ringing of the phone interrupted him. Holding up a finger, he answered. "Major Crimes. Brown." He listened to the voice on the other end. "Hold on a minute. Jim, it's Janice down in Data." He handed Jim the phone. 

"Ellison." 

"Detective, we got a response back from Chicago PD. Apparently, your request for info on Talbot set off some major bells. Do you have a pen?" 

"Hold on a minute, Janice." Jim fumbled around the desk, looking for a pen. Trying one, he discovered it didn't work. Flinging it toward the trashcan, he picked up another, testing it. Finally, he thought. Grabbing a tablet, he told Janice to go ahead. 

"Call Detective Winter, Homicide unit" she said, relaying the man's phone number. "He'll be there until 2100 hours Chicago time." 

Jim finished writing down the information. "Great, Janice. Thanks." 

"Not a problem. I'll let you know if we get anything else." 

"Jim, everything okay?" Simon asked, when Jim hung up the phone. 

Jim nodded. "Yeah, Simon. I got a message to contact a Chicago detective about Talbot. I'm going to call to him now, then go over and see Miss Stanley." He could see Simon debating with himself, his duties as a cop and a father warring against each other. "Simon, go see to Daryl. We'll call you if anything happens on this end." 

Simon nodded, his trust in his men making his decision easier. "Okay, Jim. I've got my cell phone with me." 

"Just take care of Daryl, sir. We can handle this." Blair and Brown both nodded, backing Jim up. With a last look, Simon exited the room. Jim turned to Charlie and Adam. "Let me make this phone call, then we'll drop you off at your hotel." Jim settled at his desk. Blair led Charlie and Adam over to another desk, answering Brown's question about Daryl. 

"He may have appendicitis," Blair murmured to Brown. He didn't go into detail about how they had come to know that fact. Jim tuned the conversation out when Blair started to tell Adam about some of the books in Rainier's library. He got through to Chicago PD and asked to talk to Detective Winter. Moments later, the man picked up the phone. 

"Detective Winter," said the gruff voice. 

"Detective, this is Detective Jim Ellison, Cascade, WA PD. I got a message to call you." 

"Well, that was quick. We got word you were asking for information on Philip Talbot. He's wanted for questioning in Chicago for a series of murders that took place here about three years ago. Do you have him in custody." 

"Unfortunately not. He's our prime suspect in a series of murders here, as well." 

Jim heard the deep sigh on the other end. "I was afraid of that. We'd wondered where he and his brother had disappeared to. How many victims do you have?" 

"Five so far," Jim told his counterpart. 

"Listen, I'll go ahead and send you what we've got on Talbot by overnight mail. I'll also include details of our murders, and the FBI profile that was worked up on our serial killer." 

"I'd appreciate any help you could give us, Detective. I'll return the favor." 

"Great. Oh, Detective Ellison, one word of warning..." 

"Yeah." 

"Wherever Philip Talbot is, big brother Ronnie is. In my opinion, Ronnie is the more dangerous of the pair, especially when his little brother is threatened. I'll send Ronnie's info, too. Be careful." 

"Thanks, Detective. I'll keep an eye out." Jim ended the call. He called over to Blair, "Hey, you guys ready?" 

"Always, partner," Blair said, bouncing up from his chair. 

* * *

After dropping the Piersons off at their hotel, Jim and Blair went to visit Trisha Stanley. She positively identified the coin as the one she thought she had misplaced two weeks earlier. Although she was glad it had been located, she was shaken by the fact that not only had someone broken into her house and stolen it, but that she had become the target of a serial killer. It took little effort for Jim to convince her to let them escort her to a safe house and set up a decoy in her place. 

* * *

Jim ignored the flashing blue and red lights that lit up the darkness of the evening as he punched in the numbers on his cell phone. He put a hand up to one ear to block out some of the noise from the other officers and the crowd of curious spectators milling around. Smiling down at his partner standing next to him, he waited for the answer on the other end. 

"Rainier Arms. Can I help you," asked the disembodied voice. 

"Room 227, please." 

"One moment, sir." Jim grimaced at the piped-in music that blared in his ear as he waited for the call to be transferred. 

"Hello." 

"Adam, it's Jim. Is Charlie there?" 

"Yeah, hold on a minute." 

Jim could actually feel his smile grow as he heard Charlie's voice come onto the phone. 

"Yeah, Jim." 

"Charlie, we got him. He's in custody." 

Charlie let out the breath she'd been unconsciously holding in. "That's great, Jim. And your officer, she's okay?" Officer Doris Ybarra had been the decoy that had taken Trisha Stanley's place in an effort to catch their perp in the act. 

Jim thought back to the sight that he'd seen when they'd entered the house. Jim's senses had been turned up, monitoring the operation. He had heard the perp gain entry into the house, and had started backup moving to converge on the scene. When they'd gotten to the bedroom, they'd found their serial killer on his stomach, one hand trapped underneath him. Officer Ybarra, who was sitting on him, and holding the perp's own knife to his throat, was pulling his other hand up behind his back. She maintained the position until her backup could get into the house and take him into custody. He'd been dragged from the house screaming about entrapment and police brutality. That was laughable when you compared the perp's 5'11" 210 pound frame to Ybarra's own 5'3" 115 pounds. Add that to the fact that the only marks Talbot had were on his wrist from Ybarra keeping his arm pulled up behind his back, and any chances the perp had on making that charge stick were slim. 

Jim dragged himself back to the conversation. "Oh, yeah, she's fine. She did a hell of a job. No shots were fired. It was a clean takedown. And Charlie..." 

"Yeah?" 

"The guy fits your composite drawing to a T. Right down to the fact that he has one brown eye and one blue eye. Good job." 

"I'm glad, Jim. Glad he's off the streets." 

"Yeah, me too. Listen, we need to get a full statement from you on everything you saw and experienced. Are you free in the morning?" 

"Yeah, that would be fine." 

"Do you want to meet me at the station, or should I come by and pick you up? Wait, hold on a minute," he told her, as he saw Blair gesturing at him. Placing a hand over the receiver, he said, "What is it, Chief?" 

"I wanna speak to Adam for a minute, man." Jim handed over the phone without argument. "Charlie, can I talk to Adam real quick? Thanks." Once Adam was on the phone, Blair said, "Hey, since Jim and Charlie are going to be busy in the morning, you want to take a run over to Rainier and see those Greek texts that I was telling you about? Cool. Listen, why don't we meet you guys for breakfast at the hotel's restaurant. Then Jim can take Charlie to the station and you and I can take your car to the University. Sound good? About 8 o'clock in the restaurant then? Okay, we'll see you then. Night." Finishing the call, Blair turned off the phone and handed it back to Jim with an impish smile. Jim hated that smile, it meant Blair was up to something. 

"Okay, Chief, what is going on? You're planning something. How much trouble is this going to get you in?" 

Blair held a hand to his chest and adopted an innocent expression. "Me? In trouble? Why would that idea even cross your mind?" He rocked back and forth on his heels, a clear signal to Jim that the young man had something up his sleeve. 

"Chief..." Jim growled in warning. Blair laughed, knowing the threatening tone wasn't meant seriously. 

"Relax, tough guy. I'll tell you about it when we get back to the truck. I've got something in my backpack that I want to show you." Jim shook his head, knowing that he wouldn't get anymore out of Blair until then. 

Once Jim had the scene secured, he and Blair headed to the truck. There were still a few hours of paperwork that had to be done before they could go home, but both men were satisfied with the outcome of their evening. One killer apprehended, with no injuries to anyone involved. It didn't get any better than that. 

Jim put the key in the ignition, but didn't start the truck. "Okay, Chief, what is it you wanted to show me? And what does it have to do with whatever you're up to?" 

Blair reached for his backpack, unzipping it and rummaging through the multitude of papers. "I was on the Internet this morning after class. I did some digging, pardon the pun, surrounding the opening of King Tut's tomb back in 1922. I found a picture of some of the men on Howard Carter's team." Finally finding what he was looking for, he pulled it out with a triumphant grin. "Check this out," he said, handing the paper to Jim. 

Jim looked down to see a picture that had been printed off the computer. Although it was slightly out of focus, a face that looked like Adam Pierson could be seen in the background. Using his Sentinel eyesight, Jim took a closer look. It looked _a lot_ like Adam Pierson. He studied it for a few moments, then handed it back to Blair. "He did say his grandfather was on the expedition, Chief. Lots of people resemble their grandparents." 

"But what if it's not his grandfather, Jim? What if Adam really is immortal? This could be him as he was over seventy years ago." 

Jim's thoughts returned to the night that they'd gone out to dinner. He been sure that Pierson had been lying about his grandfather. But if it wasn't his grandfather in that picture, then...Jim shook his head, not going any further down that line of thinking. It had to be his grandfather. There wasn't any other rational explanation. There were no such things as immortals. 

"Look, Chief, let's put this discussion to the side for the moment. What does this have to do with your little outing with Adam tomorrow?" 

"I found references to a few books that supposedly have stories regarding immortals. One of them even has a detailed description of a sword fight that occurred outside Athens in 1173 between two immortals. When one of the immortals chopped off the head of his opponent, it's said that there was a lightning storm so fierce, the villagers flocked to their temples in terror, fearing that the world was coming to an end." Blair's hands were gesturing a mile a minute, as his excitement became more pronounced. "Rainier's library has that book in its vault, Jim. I want to see what Adam's reaction to it is." 

"What makes you think he'll have any reaction to it? And what good does it do to chop off the head of someone who is supposed to be immortal?" 

Blair made a dismissive gesture with his hands. "I don't know about the head-chopping, man. I'll be sure to ask him. But I think he'll react, because according to the book, the winning immortal..." Blair paused, and looked straight at Jim, wanting to see his reaction. "...was named Methos." 

Silence permeated the cab of the truck, as Jim struggled to make sense of what Blair had just revealed. The name kept repeating itself over and over in his head. He remembered hearing two women saying that name, first Amanda, then Charlie. 'Oh, all right, Methos...' 'Methos, is Jim...' 

Jim pulled out of his fog, feeling like he'd just been sucker punched. Focusing on Blair, he said, "And you want to confront him with this!? Chief, it's too dangerous. If he really is an immortal, and that's a big if, then it's obvious that he doesn't want the public to know. He could decide that you're a threat. You can't confront him with this." 

"Jim, if he is the same Methos that this book talks about, then he's almost one thousand years old." Blair's voice was filled with awe. "Can you imagine the history he's seen, the civilizations he saw rise and fall? Just to talk with him about it would be an incredible experience. I'll reassure him that I'm not gonna tell the whole world. I just...I've gotta know for sure." 

"What makes you so sure that he's going to just take your word for it?" 

"I don't know, Jim. But I've got to try," he said in a determined voice. 

"There's no talking you out of this, is there?" he asked quietly. Blair shook his head. Jim was quiet for a few minutes, trying to come up with a plan. "Is that the only reason that you're taking him to the library tomorrow?" 

"No. There are some other texts that he wanted to have a look at. They're in the vault, too, and he has to be accompanied by someone with the University. I offered to escort him." 

"Okay. When Charlie and I finish up at the station, we'll meet you two at the library. Promise me that you won't talk about this, or show him the book until I get there. That way, if he decides that you're a threat, I'll be there." 

"To do what? If he's immortal you can't exactly shoot him with your gun, Jim." 

"I'll...think of something. Promise me, Blair. Or so help me, I'll handcuff you to your bed tomorrow morning." 

Blair held up his hands in surrender. "Okay, chill. You have my word, I'll wait until you get there to spring this on him." 

"Good." He started up the truck. "Now call the guys, and ask them what they want from the teriyaki place down the street. I'm buying." 

"Cool," Blair said, punching in the phone number on his cell phone. "A good bust, you've stopped arguing with me and you're buying dinner, all in one night. That's one for the history books." 

"Has anyone ever told you that it's not nice to make fun of your Blessed Protector," Jim said sternly, the effort wasted when his mouth tilted up at the corners. Blair just laughed. 

Knowing that he wouldn't be able to keep his promise to Jim if he and Adam headed directly to the library, Blair offered to take Adam on a tour of the University first. Afterward, they stopped in the cafeteria for a cup of coffee. Blair was amused at how many women were coming over to 'talk' to him, in order to check out his companion. But Adam seemed oblivious to the attention and flirting. It was obvious to Blair that Adam's wife was the only woman occupying his thoughts. After a quick stop by Blair's office, they headed to the library. 

Stopping by the main desk, Blair and Adam were led to the vault by one of the librarians, who opened the door for them. She reminded Blair to lock up the vault when they were done and to sign out at the desk. Blair thanked her, and mentioned that Jim and Charlie would be joining them shortly. Then he and Adam were alone. The librarian didn't notice the shaggy young man that had followed them down to the basement area and ducked quickly out of sight behind a row of books when she left. 

Blair had pulled out a couple of the texts, and had taken them over to the small table that was in the vault. He and Adam were about to sit down when Blair heard a noise in the doorway. Thinking it was Jim he looked up with a smile. His smile faded as he looked into the barrel of the silencer that was attached to the handgun. Holding that gun was a young, shaggy-haired man with a very pissed-off expression on his face. 

With a reaction born of practice, Blair raised his hands in surrender. "Whatever you want, man, take it. My wallet's in my backpack on the chair." 

The man sneered. "I don't want your money, pig. I want my brother." 

"Uh, who's your brother?" Blair had a very bad feeling about this. He exchanged a quick glance with Adam, then returned his attention to the guy with the gun. 

"You should know. You helped arrest him last night. But he won't be in jail long, I'll see to that. I have to look out for Philip. That's what big brothers do." Blair could now see the resemblance to the picture that had been sent to Jim by the Chicago PD. This was Ronnie Talbot, their serial killer's big brother. Blair felt the knot in his gut. He knew that Jim should be on his way to meet them by now, so he needed to try and stall this guy. He did the one thing he was best at, he tried to talk his way out of it. 

"Listen, man, this isn't gonna help your brother. All you're gonna do is wind up in a jail cell next to him. Think about this." 

The guy just smiled evilly, and Blair knew that thinking was _not_ in this guy's vocabulary. "I figure the cops will have enough to worry about when several of their pigs wind up dead. Besides, it'll be kinda hard to convict Philip when no one is left to testify, won't it? I'll start with you, then I'll get that bitch that took him down. Your partner will be the last. But he'll suffer the most. I'll make sure of that." 

The next few seconds were chaos. As Talbot's gun coughed twice, Adam suddenly dived toward Blair, pushing him to the floor. Blair's head cracked against the corner of the table on the way down and darkness overtook him. He never felt Adam fall on top of him, as the man jerked with the force of the bullets that entered his body. 

Ronnie Talbot stood in the doorway, watching as the pool of blood around the two men spread. He walked over and kicked both men with his foot. Neither man moved. Satisfied, Talbot closed the door to the vault, locking both men inside. He figured it would be awhile before anyone bothered to come looking for them. If they weren't already dead, they soon would be. Tucking his gun back into his pocket, he headed up the stairs. 

Meanwhile, a few miles away, Jim and Charlie were in Jim's truck, heading toward the University campus. Jim was listening as Charlie talked about a very important case she had worked on just prior to leaving Seacouver. It seems her neighbor's young daughter had lost her favorite doll. She offered Charlie a chocolate-chip cookie to find it for her. Charlie was halfway through her story when she abruptly broke off, listening to the voice of her husband as he talked to her telepathically. She paid little attention to Jim as he threw her a confused glance and asked if she was okay. 

{Oh, shit. We've got problems, love.} 

{Methos, what is it?} 

{There's some guy here with a gun and he's **not** happy.} 

{Is he?} 

{No, he's not immortal. He says his name is...Hell!} 

Charlie felt pain blossom in her chest, and caught her breath at the strength of it. She knew it was coming from Methos. Charlie heard his voice again, but it sounded faint and weak. {You and Jim better get over here. Library...vaults...north end of building...} 

Charlie felt the pain lessen, then the dimming of the presence she always associated with him. She cried out his name, not realizing that she also said it out loud. "Methos." 

Jim's took his gaze off the road for a split second to look at her. Her face was deathly white, and her hands were shaking. Jim didn't understand what was going on, but if it concerned her husband, then that meant Blair was involved. He flipped on the light mounted to the dashboard and jammed his foot onto the accelerator. He tried to get Charlie's attention. "Charlie. CHARLIE!" 

She turned to Jim, her eyes feverishly bright. "Jim, Me...uh, Adam and Blair are in trouble. Adam said they're in the library vault at the north end of the building. He said there was a man with a gun." 

"What do you mean, 'he said'?" Jim asked as he pulled into the university parking lot. 

"I promise I'll explain everything later. Just trust me. They're in trouble. Hurry." 

Jim nodded and picked up the radio, requesting back up units. When the dispatcher asked if he wanted an ambulance, he raised a questioning eyebrow to Charlie. 

Charlie hesitated. She knew Methos was hurt, but he would recover. However, that would be tricky to explain his resurrection if there were witnesses milling about. But Blair could be hurt, too, and he'd need help quickly. She nodded at Jim. He answered with an affirmative response, but told his dispatcher to have the paramedics hold until he knew the situation was secure. 

Jim parked in front of the library and jumped out, Charlie right behind him. They ran into the building. Jim pulled out his badge and told the librarian that there might be a problem, and requested the keys to the vault. He asked her to direct the other officers down to the vault when they arrived. The librarian agreed and handed Jim the keys. At the doorway of the stairs that led to the basement, he turned to Charlie and told her to stay put. She shook her head. 

"Sorry, but I'm going with you." 

"It could be dangerous. Your husband said there was a man with a gun. I can't let you go into that situation." 

"Jim, I'll follow behind you with your permission or without it. But I **am** going down there. At least this way, you'll know right where I am." 

Jim saw the look in her eyes and knew he didn't have time to argue this. "All right, but you do exactly what I say." He turned, muttering about stubbornness and headed down the stairs. 

Jim listened at the door to the basement level before easing it open. He didn't hear anything that would indicate the bad guy was still around. He led the way to the vault quickly, handing the keys to Charlie, as he kept an eye out, his gun out and ready. Finally, Jim was satisfied that there was no one else on this level, and turned to the door as Charlie opened it. The first thing that hit him was the smell of the blood. It was spreading out in a puddle around the two men crumpled on the floor. Then Jim heard the one sound that sent waves of relief crashing over him. Blair's heartbeat echoed strong and steady in his ears. Jim and Charlie rushed into the vault. 

Charlie went to her husband and rolled him on his back before Jim could stop her. He could see the bullet holes in the shirt the man was wearing, and he couldn't hear a heartbeat. Charlie's husband was dead, having taken two bullets in the chest. Jim checked on Blair. He couldn't detect any injuries other than a gash on the side of his head. It was bleeding a lot, but it wasn't life threatening. Blair was already starting to come around. With a moan, the young man tried to sit up. 

"Oh, man, what hit me?" 

"Easy, Chief. You're okay. Try not to move," Jim said, his hand gently forcing the other man to lie still. 

One eye opened slightly. "Jim? Where...Adam, where's Adam? Jim, Ronnie Talbot was here. He had a gun. He shot at us. Where's Adam, is he okay?" 

Jim looked over at Charlie. She had Adam's head in her lap, but didn't look as upset as he figured she would be. The woman's husband was dead, and she sat there stroking his hair like he was sleeping. Jim used his senses to check her over, but she didn't show any signs of shock. He returned his attention to Blair when the young man tugged on his sleeve. 

"Jim, is Adam..." he asked, as he looked over toward Charlie. Jim just nodded grimly. 

Jim started to get up. "You stay put, Chief. I need to get the paramedics down here. Maybe they can help him." That's when Jim felt Charlie's heartbeat pick up. 

"No, wait please." 

"Charlie, he needs medical attention. Maybe they can help him. And Blair needs to be looked at, too." He turned to the door once more. 

"Are Blair's injuries serious?" 

"No," Blair answered for himself. "Just a bump on the head. I'm okay." 

"Jim, please trust me. They can't help Adam. And I don't want a lot of people milling around in the next few minutes. Please, wait just a few minutes, okay." 

"No." 

"Please." Jim could sense her panic. He was about to refuse again, when he was interrupted by the arrival of four uniformed officers. 

"Detective, everything okay?" one of the men asked. 

"We've had a shooting," Jim told them. "Blair, you said it was Ronnie Talbot?" 

"Yeah. He was wearing black jeans, a blue flannel shirt, blue and white jacket and white tennies. He had on a blue and red baseball hat. He had shaggy blonde hair and his face was unshaven. Jim, he said he was going to get the woman that took his brother down. I think he's after Officer Ybarra." 

Jim pointed at two of the men. "You two check out the building, make sure he's not hiding somewhere." Indicating the other two, he said, "You two get outside and on the radio. Have dispatch broadcast an APB with Talbot's description, and get someone over to Officer Doris Ybarra's house." He looked at Charlie. Against his better judgment, he caved in to her pleading expression. "Then return and help search the building. Tell the paramedics to hold until we clear the area." The four men nodded and left to carry out Jim's orders. 

Jim turned to Charlie. He was about to demand to know what was going on, when he suddenly starting feeling the electrical sensation that he'd come to associate with Adam. He'd been so focused on getting to Blair, he hadn't even realized that it wasn't there. Adam took a huge breath, then started coughing. Now Jim could pick up a heartbeat coming from the man. A heartbeat that hadn't been there only seconds before! He focused his eyesight through the holes in the man's shirt to get a look at the bullet holes in his chest. He could see small electric sparks running across the man's wounds, then saw the skin and tissue healing back together. Within a couple of minutes, the injuries were gone like they'd never occurred. Jim stumbled back in shock as Adam started moving, sitting up with a little help from his wife. 

Rubbing a hand across his chest, he muttered, "Man, I hate this part." Looking up to find both Jim and Blair staring at him, he turned his head to smile weakly at his wife. "Well, darling, I guess that means they know." He leaned back against Charlie, still recovering from his 'death.' Charlie nodded and looked worriedly at Jim and Blair. 

"You...you really are immortal," Jim whispered hoarsely. 

Adam's eyes narrowed. "And you're a Sentinel." Blair and Jim traded shocked expressions. Adam smirked. "We've exchanged our little secrets. Now what?" 

"Please, Jim, we'll explain everything later. I promise. Just don't say anything, okay," Charlie begged. 

Jim blinked. He could hear someone coming, probably one of the officers to update him on the situation. "Later. After Blair gets checked out at the hospital. Then you two will tell me everything. Including how you managed to 'talk' to your husband while you were in the truck with me." Charlie nodded, relieved. 

Detective Henri Brown entered the room. "Jim, the scene is secure," Brown said. "We couldn't find Talbot, but we have units on the way to Ybarra's house, and the APB's been sent over the radio. You okay, Hairboy?" he said to Blair, calling him by the nickname he'd given the observer when Blair had first joined the unit. The young man nodded, and Brown smiled. 

"Jim, Talbot said he was going after everyone that was there last night. He figures that if there's no one left to testify, he'll get his brother off." Jim nodded at his partner. 

"We've done all we can for now, Chief. We need to get you to the hospital." He turned to his fellow detective. "H, go ahead and let the paramedics in." 

"Is everyone else okay?" 

"Yeah," Jim said, "Mr. Pierson was just shaken up. He's not hurt. The guy missed." Brown nodded, and left at a run. 

"Jim, do me a favor. On the shelf over there, the third shelf down, fourth book over from the left." Jim went to the shelf Blair indicated and pulled out a book. Blair nodded to him. "Put it in my backpack, please. I want to take it with me. I'll return it later." Jim did as requested, zipping the pack closed just as the paramedics entered the room. 

The paramedics checked Blair over and got him prepared to transport to the ER. Jim left Brown in charge of the scene. He followed the ambulance, with Charlie and Adam behind him in their rental car. They were directed to the empty waiting room outside of ER. Jim asked Charlie and Adam if they would come to the loft for dinner so they could discuss everything that had happened that day. Both agreed, until Jim mentioned that he intended to have Simon there as well. 

"Bloody hell, I don't want your whole department knowing, Ellison." 

"It's not my whole department, Adam. Simon's my friend **_and_** my superior officer. He's going to have questions, and I don't keep secrets from him. Besides, he'll need to sign off on whatever report I write." He rubbed his neck with his hand, trying to massage away some of the tension. "Adam, I trust him with my secret. You can trust him with yours." 

Adam had looked ready to refuse, until Jim mentioned that Simon knew about Jim's abilities. "Your captain knows about you?" he asked with a slight smile on his face. 

"Yeah," Jim said, unsure what had prompted this reaction. 

Adam nodded slightly. "The triad," he murmured under his breath. 

Jim was confused. "Excuse me?" 

"I'll explain tonight, Ellison. Your captain is welcome." 

"Thanks. Charlie, can I ask how you knew what had happened in the vault?" he asked the woman sitting quietly next to Adam. 

Charlie slid her hand into Adam's, lacing their fingers together. "Telepathy. Adam and I have had the ability for several years." 

Jim's first impulse was to scoff, but he'd already seen too much of the impossible occur since meeting these two. He just took Charlie's explanation for truth, then turned back to Adam. "Can I ask just one more question now? The rest can wait until tonight." Adam nodded. Jim took a deep breath. "Did you deliberately put yourself between Talbot and Blair?" 

Adam looked like he was going to make a flip remark, then he slumped back in his chair. "It all happened so fast. It wasn't something that I thought about. I just reacted. It's not like it would have been fatal for me." 

"Thank you. I won't forget what you did for him." 

"Don't go making me out to be some hero, Detective. I've done things in my past that can't be atoned for just by saving one man. But he's important. You both are. You're too important to lose!" Jim was slightly taken aback at the man's vehemence. He just nodded, and gave Adam directions to the loft, making plans to meet in about two hours. Then the couple left, leaving Jim alone in the waiting room. 

While the doctor stitched up Blair's head wound and checked him over for signs of a concussion, Jim checked in with Simon. He was relieved to find out that Ronnie Talbot had been arrested trying to shoot Doris Ybarra. She was fine, and Ronnie was in custody, in a cell next to his brother. Jim invited Simon over for dinner, and told him they would explain everything then. 

The doctor didn't find any problems. Having dealt with Blair and his partner on many previous occasions, he didn't even try to admit Blair into the hospital. He simply reminded Jim what to look for, told Blair to take it easy, keep the stitches dry and released him. 

In the truck, Blair told Jim what he remembered. "Jim, Adam saved my life. He took two bullets meant for me." 

"I know, Chief. And I'll be forever grateful to him for that." 

"What are we gonna do, Jim?" 

"I'm not going to tell the whole world that immortals are running around with swords and cutting off each other's heads. I'm not planning on telling anyone but Simon, Chief. I wouldn't want the attention of certain groups drawn to them, anymore than I'd want it drawn to me." 

"What do you mean?" 

"Think about it, Sandburg. The last thing I want is to end up as a guinea pig in some government lab, being experimented upon. I couldn't think of anything that would seem closer to hell. But if it were to happen, even if I never was able to escape, eventually death would free me. Adam wouldn't even have that relief." 

Blair was silent for several moments, staring out the window at the passing scenery. "Oh, man, you're right. The people that run those things could do anything to Adam, perform all kinds of grisly experiments. They wouldn't even have to hold back, wouldn't have to worry about killing him. He'd just recover. Then they could do it all over again." Blair settled further into his seat, thinking of the consequences. 

"Exactly. They'd probably use him to test new biological weapons or experimental drugs. I wouldn't wish that on someone like Lee Brackett, much less someone who's proven to be a good man. Someone who saved your life." 

"So we keep his secret between you, me and Simon," Blair stated. 

"And we keep it as closely guarded as we do the Sentinel stuff." 

"Yeah," Blair agreed. "Man, I wonder how he figured out you were a Sentinel?" 

"Well, if he's hundreds of years old, Chief, he may have met other Sentinels. I mean, the man has probably circled the globe several times. He'd have to keep moving, keep changing identities." 

"Yeah. Man, I hope he's willing to answer some questions. Just think of the things he could tell about the way things really were. I mean, history is never as accurate as the textbooks say. He'd be able to tell the truth about the way things were, the people he met." 

"Just don't over do it tonight, okay, Darwin," Jim said as he pulled up in front of the loft. "You took a pretty good bump on the head, and you need your rest." 

"But, Jim..." Blair protested. 

"Blair," Jim said, raising a hand to stall further objections. "The man's immortal. He's gonna be around for awhile. And Seacouver is not that far away. We can make plans to get together if he and Charlie are agreeable." 

"Oh, yeah. Good idea, man." Blair perked up at this, and Jim had to chuckle at his roommate's enthusiasm. He felt a twinge of sympathy for Adam, but knew not even an immortal would have the strength to deflect his partner for long. Jim could testify to that firsthand. 

After getting Blair settled on the couch with his journal, Jim ordered out for pizza. It arrived at the same time that Simon, Adam and Charlie did. Jim paid the deliveryman while Simon updated Charlie on Daryl's recovery from his appendectomy. He thanked the psychic for the warning. 

Jim decided to leave the explanations until after dinner. Clean up was a snap, since they'd eaten with their hands. Once he'd thrown the pizza box in the garbage, he poured a glass of juice for Blair, soda for Charlie and grabbed beers for him, Simon and Adam. Once everyone was seated in the living room, he began. 

"Okay, let's start everyone out on the same playing field here. Simon," he told his superior, "Adam and Charlie know I'm a Sentinel." Simon's eyes widened. "It gets better. Blair and I got proof today that Adam...is immortal." 

"He's what?" Simon asked in disbelief. 

"Immortal, Simon. You know, like can't die, rise-from-the-dead type of stuff." 

"I know what the word means, Sandburg, I just don't believe it. I could see you being convinced about this hocus-pocus. But, Jim, you're telling me you actually buy this garbage?" 

"I saw it with my own eyes, Captain. Adam took two bullets in the chest today. I saw them and watched them heal. Adam, would you mind pulling up your sweater?" 

"All right, but I usually get a fee for stripping," he said with a touch of humor. Charlie rolled her eyes, while Blair just snorted in laughter. Adam's chest was unmarked by any wound, or evidence that there had ever been one. 

"And this proves what, Jim? Obviously, he didn't get shot." 

"Actually, I did, Captain Banks, twice in the heart. I died. Then I revived." 

"No one revives from two gunshot wounds to the heart, Mr. Pierson. Obviously, you were just stunned by a close call." 

Adam sighed heavily. "Jim, could you get me a knife, please?" 

"Why?" 

"Because your captain is going to need to have this proven to him, and a knife is the quickest way. A sharp one, please, and some paper towels." Jim returned with the requested items. Adam pushed up the sleeve of his sweater to his elbow. Taking the knife, he took a deep breath, steeling himself for the pain. Then he made a deep cut in his arm from elbow to wrist. Blair muttered, "Yuck" and turned his head away. But Jim and Simon watched as blood welled up from the cut. It was deep enough that they could see muscle and bone. Simon's face took on a gray/green appearance as he watched sparks dance across Adam's arm. The cut knitted back together. Adam swiped a towel down his arm, wiping off the excess blood. The cut had healed without a trace. 

Simon leaned back in his chair. "Oh...my...God." 

"Believe me, Captain, God has nothing to do with this." 

Jim turned to his roommate. "Blair, you were a little out of it at the library, so you may not have heard the other part of our conversation. But Charlie and Adam can communicate by telepathy. Adam contacted her when Ronnie Talbot appeared. He told Charlie what was going on." 

Blair looked at the couple with awe. "Telepathy. Cool." He looked like a kid in a candy store. "Too bad you and I can't do that, Jim. Then I'd always be able to tell you my location when I get kidnapped by wackos." 

Adam quirked an eyebrow. "Happens often, does it?" he asked. 

"Seems like a frequent occurrence around here," Jim replied. 

"Actually, Blair," Charlie said, "with your abilities and some training, you could learn." 

"My abilities?" 

"You're a Shaman, Blair," she said. "You haven't tapped into your full range of gifts, yet, but they're there." 

"And unless I'm very much mistaken," Adam broke in, "You're also the Sentinel's companion." 

Blair thought he understood what Adam meant. "If you're talking about being his Guide, then yeah, I am." 

Adam nodded. "Guide, yes. Thank you. As his Guide, even if you don't develop the ability to communicate with anyone else, the bond should make it easy for the three of you to communicate." 

"The three of us," Jim asked, confused. "You mean me, Blair and Charlie?" 

"No. I mean you, Blair and Simon." 

That pulled Simon out of his stupor. "Me? How did I get into this discussion?" 

Adam sprawled back lazily into the couch, smiling smugly. "You're the other part of the triad, Captain. You complete the Three." 

"You mentioned this 'triad' at the hospital," Jim said, folding his arms over his chest. "Care to explain?" 

"In a minute. Tell me, Captain Banks, has Blair coached you in how to help Jim if he's unable to? Could you temporarily take over as Guide should the need arise?" 

"Yeah. Blair and I have discussed it. Why?" 

"Every Sentinel that I ever met had two partners, sort of. The Guide; which in this case is Blair. The third member is, I guess the closest word I can use is Overseer. In the tribes, it was usually the leader, or someone appointed by him. It would be up to the Overseer to keep watch over the Sentinel and Guide. If need be, he could take over temporarily should the Guide be unable to help the Sentinel." He chuckled, as all three men seemed stunned by the notion. "You probably thought that it just made sense to let your captain in on your secret, Ellison. But there was a reason that it seemed natural for you to do so. That's the way it's supposed to be, the way it's always been." 

"Whoa. Have you met many other Sentinels teams, Adam?" 

"Yes, but it's been a few hundred years since the last one. Probably close to the late 1500's or early 1600's." He turned to Jim. "I have a question for you, Ellison. In the vault today, you said 'you really are immortal', like you already knew, but didn't quite believe it. How did you know?" 

"The other night after dinner, we dropped you off at your hotel. Once you got back to your room, Charlie asked you if I was a pre-immortal. I was listening." 

"How far away were you?" Charlie asked. 

"We stopped the truck around the block. I just filtered out all the other sounds, and concentrated on your voices. I heard you talking about immortals, and the fact that you and Amanda were both carrying swords that evening." 

"Do you always make a habit of listening in on private conversations, Detective?" Adam asked. "Or was there a reason you were suspicious of us?" 

"No, not usually. It's just that ever since we met, I've been experiencing a weird sensation whenever I'm around you. It made me curious." 

"You felt his 'buzz'," Charlie stated. "His and Amanda's. That's how you always knew when he was coming into the room." 

Jim had heard her use the term before, but didn't know what it meant. "Buzz?" 

"We call it the 'buzz,'" Adam explained. "It's sort of an early warning system to let us know whenever another immortal is near, so that we don't get caught off-guard. It's like a vibration that centers in the base of the skull. We're not even sure what causes it, we just feel it whenever another one of our kind is near." 

"Why would you need a warning system," Simon asked, some of the shock of the evening's revelations starting to wear off. He was getting back into 'police' mode. 

"Immortal is really a relative term, Captain. There is one way we can die. If we're beheaded." Adam went on to explain to the three men about immortals, the swords, Quickenings and the Game. 

Blair was in rare form, throwing question after question at Adam. "So, whatever age you experience your first death at, that's the age you stay? What happens if you die young, like five or six years old? Or if you don't die until you're eighty?" 

"As unfair as it seems, they would probably be very quick to die for real. If you can't fight, you lose your head. There is one boy, Kenny, that usually scams older immortals. He pretends like he's just had his first 'death.' When the older immortal takes him in to train him, Kenny usually waits for the opportunity to stab his teacher in the back, then takes his head." 

"Sounds like you don't care much for Kenny," Simon remarked. 

Adam took a swig of his beer. "Can't stand him. Don't get me wrong, I don't begrudge Kenny his ways. I'm no bloody boyscout. Unlike _some_ ," he stressed, rolling his eyes at Charlie. "I don't fight by some noble code of conduct. I'll do whatever it takes to keep my head. That's all Kenny is trying to do." 

As cops, Jim and Simon could understand Adam's views. Both had learned one lesson well. The same lesson Blair had learned when he was kidnapped by serial killer David Lash. 'Do whatever it takes to survive.' 

Draining his beer, Adam put the empty bottle down on the table. He didn't comment when Jim immediately picked up the empty bottle and took it to the kitchen. "My dislike of Kenny is strictly personal," he said, nodding thanks at Jim when the man returned with a fresh beer. "He may be several hundred years old, but he's a whiny brat that needs to be turned over someone's knee and spanked until he can't sit down." 

"Do you have any rules to this 'Game?'" Jim asked. 

"Only two. All fights must be one on one. Once two immortals are engaged in a duel, no other immortal can interfere. The second is that no fight is allowed to take place on holy ground. It's strictly forbidden." 

"So no one has ever broken these rules?" 

"Not really," Adam answered, then elaborated. "Taking a Quickening leaves an immortal weak and exhausted. Another immortal may take his head when he's too weak to fight back. It's not entirely fair. But it's not really against the rules either. As for fighting on holy ground, as far as I know, that's never been broken." 

"Never?" 

"Not to my direct knowledge, Blair. But there have been rumors that a fight did occur on an island in the Sunda Strait back in 1883." 

Blair's brow creased in thought. "Something about that rings a bell. 1883." Then his eyes widened. "Geez. Isn't that when Krakatoa erupted?" 

"Yeah," Adam nodded. "Rumor has it that the volcano erupted as punishment for the fight taking place on holy ground. But nothing was ever proven." 

Simon finally asked the one question that all three men wanted to know. "Exactly how old **are** you, anyway?" 

"Let's just say I've been around the block more than once." 

"Well," said Blair, "I know you've got to be at least 800 years old." 

"How do you figure that?" 

Blair reached for the backpack that Jim had brought up from the truck. He pulled out the book that Jim had taken from the library's vault. "I was actually planning to discuss this with you today, Adam." He handed the book to Adam and explained to Charlie and Simon. "The book talks about a fight between two immortals back in 1173 in Greece. The winning immortal's name was Methos." 

Simon glanced at Jim. "Isn't that the name you overheard Amanda and Charlie calling him?" Jim nodded. 

Adam/Methos looked up from the book he was leafing through. "You are a curious fellow, aren't you? What else did you 'overhear' that I should know about?" 

"Well, now that you mention it, who are Dr. Adams and Lawrence Jefferson?" 

Methos chuckled. "I'm Dr. Adams, Benjamin Adams. It was a name I used about a hundred years ago. Lawrence Jefferson is an immortal who owned a plantation down in Louisiana. He didn't take kindly to some of my practices with his slaves. He's still a bit miffed." 

"Those are the slaves you told Amanda you helped escape," Jim said, relieved. "Here I was thinking you had ties to some kind of white slavery ring selling women overseas." He noticed Charlie shiver, and remembered her kidnapping. Methos reached out and put an arm around her shoulders, drawing her to him in a quick hug. "Were you part of the Underground Railroad that helped slaves get to the north?" 

"No, it was just one family. They were...special to me," he said, his voice sad. 

Jim leaned back into the couch. "And I almost sent a request to the Feds about white slavers working in the region. Thank God I decided to hold off on that." 

Methos turned back to the book. "Well, Blair's right about the book. This is a story about my fight with an immortal named Paleous. The quickening was a pretty strong one. Paleous was nearly 1500 years old by then." He looked at the book. "I didn't even realize this was still around. I lost track of the book back during World War II. At the time, it was in a library in London. The Nazis destroyed the library in one of their bombing raids. I thought the book had been destroyed along with it. How did you find it, Blair?" 

"I did some checking on the Internet. I found some references to books containing stories about immortals. I found this one, and connected the name 'Methos' to what Jim had overheard. Then I realized that the University library had the book in its vault." Blair shrugged. "I was planning on showing it to you today, to see what your reaction was. But we got interrupted by Talbot." 

Methos ran a hand over the book and turned to Charlie. "Remember me telling you about Gabrielle, the bard I met in Greece?" Charlie nodded. "This was written by her. It was transcribed a few centuries later from one of her scrolls." Methos was silent for several moments, his mind hundreds of years in his past. 

Simon broached the one subject that no one had brought up yet. "Any ideas on what we're going to put into the police report? I mean, we did have a shooting, but we don't have any bullets. That may be kind of hard to explain." 

"Does it really need to be explained, Captain?" Methos asked, then shrugged. "Put Talbot into a line-up and let Blair and me try to pick him out. Our testimony should be enough to convict him." 

"Maybe," Simon said wearily. "But I really like having all my evidence bagged up nice and neat. It makes the Prosecuting Attorney less likely to chew my butt if the case goes bad. Okay, we'll set up a line-up for first thing tomorrow morning." 

"Hey, Methos, what **does** happen to the bullets when an immortal gets shot?" Blair asked. 

"It stays in the body until the next time we take a Quickening. Then, the power of the Quickening melts the metal, and it gets expelled through our perspiration." 

"Really," Blair asked, fascinated. 

Methos caught Jim's eye and winked, but the serious expression on his face never wavered. "Yeah, that's where the term 'sweating bullets' comes from." There was silence in the loft for a full minute. Jim had to turn away to hide his smile, but eventually 

he couldn't contain the snickers. They escaped, alerting Blair that he'd been had. 

"Oh, man, I can't believe I fell for that." 

By now, everyone was laughing, even Blair. Jim had fallen out of the chair, and Simon had tears running down his face. Finally, Methos turned to Jim. "Is he always so gullible?" 

"No, not usually," Jim wheezed between spurts of laughter. "I can't believe you were able to keep a straight face when you said that." 

"What can I say," he said, sprawling over the couch. "It's a gift." 

"Oh, God," Jim said, finally coming to his knees. "I need another beer. Anyone?" he offered, rising to his feet. Charlie, Methos and Simon all asked for refills. Blair asked for a cup of tea. Jim headed into the kitchen, while Simon excused himself to go to the bathroom. Blair stayed on the couch, writing in his journal, still chuckling at the joke Methos had played on him. Meanwhile, Charlie and Methos were engaged in a private conversation. 

{Sweating bullets? How could you tell such a tale?} Methos could feel the laughter in the statement. 

Methos defended himself. {Hey, I had to come up with something. I couldn't exactly let the police know that the bullets were underneath me in the vault, and that I picked them up. That's called tampering with evidence and it's a crime, love. It might be hard for them to explain why there aren't any bullets. But that's better than trying to explain how two bullets that didn't hit anyone ended up covered with my blood and tissue.} 

{I know, but where did you come up with that line? Poor Blair.} 

{I'm a quick thinker. And I wouldn't worry about Blair. I think he got a kick out of it. Besides, the kid knows how to laugh at himself.} Methos glanced at Blair, his eyes approving. This young man was going to make a hell of a Guide. He wondered if Ellison knew how lucky he was to have found Blair. Some Sentinels never found their Guides. 

He saw Jim come out and hand Blair his cup of tea and some aspirin. Blair glanced up absently, giving Jim a smile. Swallowing the pills, he turned back to his journal. Jim stared down at him fondly, then raised his eyes to Methos'. _Yes,_ he seemed to say _I am aware of the gift I've been given._ He then returned to the kitchen to retrieve the other drinks. 

Once everyone was again grouped in the living room, Methos turned the conversation to a more serious topic. "I need the three of you to understand how dangerous it would be for me if the wrong people overheard you using my real name. Methos is known to most of the immortals only as a myth. One some of them would dearly love to find was real." 

"No offense," Simon said, "but what's so special about Methos?" 

"Not a damn thing. Methos is just a guy. Unfortunately, he...I am the oldest of our kind still alive. Some figure that an immortal as old as I am will have a powerful Quickening. A lot of headhunters, those immortals who actively pursue fights, would love to take my head, thinking that the strength of the Quickening may help them gain the prize. It's damned inconvenient. I like my head right where it is." 

"So, are the headhunters right," Jim asked. "Will your Quickening be a powerful one?" 

"Who knows? There are different theories about the Quickenings. Some believe it's the age of the immortal that determines its strength. Others think that it depends on how many heads he or she had taken. Until someone actually takes my head, there's really no way to tell. And I don't plan on giving anyone the opportunity to find out, if I can help it." 

"How old are you? A real figure this time," Simon asked again, putting up a hand to stop another vague answer from the man. This guy could obfuscate better than Blair could. But then, he'd had hundreds of years more practice. 

Methos chuckled, but the sound held little humor. He sighed, as if the weight of the world was on his shoulders. "I was already immortal when the pyramids were built." 

Blair's mouth dropped open in shock, as he did some quick calculations. "But that was five thousand years ago. Five THOUSAND! Ohmygodohmygodohmygodohmygod." 

"Y-y-you..." Jim stuttered. "You're five thousand years old?" 

"Give or take a few centuries. The early ones seem to be kind of vague." 

Everyone was silent for several minutes, as Simon, Blair and Jim attempted to process this newest bit of information, their brains already on overload. The silence was finally broken by a huge yawn from Blair, causing everyone to laugh as the tension drained from the room. 

"Okay, Darwin, bedtime." 

"No way, Jim. I've got so many questions I still want to ask Methos." 

"Later, Chief. Doctor's orders. You need your rest." 

"But..." 

"Blair, I'll happy to answer more questions for you later. Jim's right. You need time to recover. I'm only sorry that you got hurt when I tackled you." 

Blair gave Methos a bewildered look. "Hey, man, you saved my life today! A little bump on the head is nothing. Getting dead would have been so not cool. Don't apologize. Especially since I haven't even thought to say 'Thank you' yet." Methos gave a little nod in acknowledgment. 

Simon stood up, stretching the kinks out of his back. He stuck an unlit cigar between his teeth. "So Methos, uh, Adam, can you be at the station about 10:00 for a line-up?" 

The man nodded. "Yeah, I'll be there." 

"Good. Ellison, bring Sandburg in about 10:30." He gathered up his coat. "Well, I really have to go. I want to stop by the hospital to see Daryl before I head home." 

"Tell him I'll be in to see him tomorrow, Simon," Blair said. "I meant to do it today, but..." 

"I will. Goodnight, all." 

"Night, Simon," Jim said, closing the door behind his friend. He turned back to find Charlie and Methos on their feet. No, Adam. It would be easier to keep thinking of him as Adam, less chance of slipping up in public. 

"Well, boys, it's been a fun day, but we really should get going. We'll see you both tomorrow." 

"Blair," Charlie reached over and gave the younger man a peck on the cheek. "Rest. It's the best thing for your headache." Then she turned and gave Jim a hug. "Thank you for trusting me today. I appreciate it." 

Jim returned her hug without hesitation. "Believe me, I understand how hard it is to keep secrets." He held out his hand to Adam. "Yours is safe with me. Count on it." 

"As is yours, Sentinel, as is yours. See you both tomorrow." 

"By the way," Jim said, "Lunch is on me tomorrow. Blair knows this place that makes great Dim Sum if you want." 

"Oh, yummy," Charlie said. "I love Dim Sum. Count me in." She shrugged into the coat that her husband held for her. 

"Adam, that okay with you?" 

"Far be it from me to deny my wife her Dim Sum. Besides, I like it when she's happy. The fringe benefits I get out of it are so much fun." He raised his eyebrows suggestively. Even if the two men hadn't understood his meaning, the red tide creeping up Charlie's face would have clued them in. After all, one of them _was_ a detective. Jim laughed as he closed the door after them. As he had with Simon, Jim used his hearing to track them as they left, making sure they made it to their car all right. Then he turned back to his roommate. 

Blair was still on the couch. His partner was curled up at one end, his legs crossed under him in the lotus position. He was using the armrest to lean against. His journal was open on his lap, but he was staring off into space. He looked almost...sad. Jim figured this was more than just fatigue. He laid a hand on Blair's shoulder. "Chief, you okay?" 

"I don't know, Jim. I was just thinking that Methos...Adam, must get very lonely sometimes." 

"What brought this on?" Jim sat down on the couch next to Blair. 

"Watching him and Charlie together. It's pretty obvious that he's crazy about his wife. But it makes me wonder how many others he's lost. It must be hard to know that you're probably going to outlive everyone you've ever known. How can he bear losing them again and again?" Blair tucked a stray curl behind his ear. "If it were me, I'm not sure I could be strong enough to keep reaching out like that." 

Jim was continually amazed at the depth of Blair's compassion for people. While anyone else, Jim included, would be having thoughts about the benefits of being immortal, Blair's thoughts were on how lonely Adam must get. Jim squeezed Blair's shoulder gently. 

"I don't know, Chief. I imagine it would be pretty hard. Some of them probably would just close themselves off, like I did when I came back from Peru. But I think others, like Adam, like _you_ , would be the types to accept the pain that comes with the loss, in order to experience the love and friendship that makes it worth living. I can't speak for Adam, but you wouldn't be you otherwise. Know what I mean?" 

Blair looked up. "Maybe. I guess a man like Adam can use all the friends he can get, huh?" 

"Since I met you, Chief, I've come to realize that there is no such thing as having too many friends. That pertains to everyone, immortal or not. As for Adam, I think having a friend that he could talk about his past with, someone who would appreciate all the little details he could provide, would be pretty special." 

A small smile came onto Blair's face. "Who better than a nosy, motor-mouth anthropologist, huh? I think you're right, Jim. What's the point of living for thousands of years, if you don't **experience** life." He rose from the couch and moved over to the set of doors that separated his room from the living room. He turned around. "Ya know, Jim, Adam seems like a great guy, but he could never be my best friend." 

"Why is that, Chief?" 

"Cuz that position's already filled, man." He grinned. "Night, Jim." 

"Night, Blair." Jim walked into the bathroom and brushed his teeth. Walking up the stairs to his bed, he extended his hearing, taking in the sounds of his friend and roommate getting ready to sleep. Jim lay awake, going over the night's events as he heard Blair taking care of his own nightly ritual. He listened as Blair settled down for the night. Eventually, Blair's heartbeat evened out, indicating that he had fallen into a deep and restful sleep. Jim spent a few more minutes thinking about what Blair had said. He smiled to himself. Yeah, no one else could ever be Jim's best friend either. As Blair had said, the position was filled. And Jim knew that he could never find a more qualified person for the job. That was Jim's last thought as he drifted off to sleep. 

* * *

The next morning, Jim accompanied Blair into the witness room. Detective Brian Rafe greeted the two men. Along one wall of the room was a mirror that looked into another small room. Inside was an uniformed officer. Rafe knocked on the glass of the one-way mirror. The officer went to a small door, and made a motion with his hand. Five men stepped through the door and onto a small, raised platform. A second officer took up a position just inside the door. The first officer indicated to all five men to face the front. 

Blair looked through the glass, staring intently at each man, cataloguing the features and comparing them to the man that had confronted he and Adam at the library. The only sound heard was the voice of the officer as he instructed the five men to step forward, turn left and turn right. After several minutes, Blair turned to Rafe. "It's number four, man. That's the man who shot at Adam and me yesterday." 

"Are you sure, Blair?" Rafe asked, as was standard police procedure. 

Blair silently looked at every man again. He nodded. "Positive. It's number four." 

Rafe nodded. He marked the paper, indicating which numbered position the man Blair had picked out of the line-up was in. Blair signed it then he preceded Jim out the door. He missed the slight nod that Rafe gave Jim, indicating that Blair had, indeed, picked Ronnie Talbot. Jim nodded back, satisfied. If Pierson had also chosen Talbot, then the Prosecuting Attorney's office would have enough to file charges with the assault on them, as well as the attempt on Officer Ybarra's life. 

When they walked into the Major Crimes bullpen, Methos and Charlie were seated at H's desk, while Methos read over the statement that H had typed up for him, before signing it. He and Charlie looked up when they heard H greeting Jim and Blair. "Jim, Hairboy. Hey. How ya feeling, Blair?" 

"Better, H. Thanks." 

"Ah, Ellison, glad you're here. You _are_ still buying lunch today, right?" Methos asked. 

"Yeah, but Blair and I have a few things to do first." 

"Charlie and I were thinking that we'd head on back to Seacouver after lunch, if you didn't need us to stay any longer. She needs to get back to the Institute." 

"No, although you both will be required to return for the trials." 

"We realize that," Charlie said. "Why don't Adam and I go ahead and check out of the hotel, then meet you two back here. We can go to lunch, drop you both off back here, then we'll head for home." 

Jim exchanged a nod with Blair. "Sounds good." He checked his watch. "Say about noon? We'll meet you out front." Charlie and Methos nodded. "We'll see you in a little while, then." Just then Simon walked up to Jim's desk to hand him some files. Jim invited his boss to join them for lunch. 

Simon shook his head regretfully, chewing on the end of an unlit cigar. "Unfortunately, I've got a monthly budget meeting with Fiscal this afternoon. What joy." 

"Well then, Captain," Methos said, holding out his hand. "It looks like we'll see you when we come back for the trials of the Talbot brothers." 

"I figured you'd be leaving soon, since everything is pretty much wrapped up." He shook Methos' hand, then Charlie's. "Both of you have the thanks of myself and the department for your help. Rest assured that we will keep the promises made in order to protect your privacy." Methos knew the Captain was also referring to his little secret. "And Charlie, on a personal note, thank you once again for your warning about my son. It means a lot to know that he's going to be okay." 

She nodded. "Glad I could help, Captain." 

"Well, I'll say goodbye now, then. I'll inform Dr. Jacobs when we have the dates you'll need to appear for court. You both have a good trip back." With a final nod, he returned to his office. Charlie and Methos left, leaving Jim and Blair to finish up their paperwork. 

Two hours later, Charlie and the three men were in a back booth at the Shangri-La Gardens. Over a platter of Dim Sum, they made small talk about their lives, knowing that discussing Sentinels and Immortals in a public restaurant was too risky. But once in the car heading back to the station, Methos made a surprising invitation. 

"Listen, the next time you two have a free weekend, how about visiting us in Seacouver? We have some friends we'd like you to meet." 

"Cool," Blair said. "Are any more of them immortal, Adam?" 

Methos glanced at Blair in the rearview mirror, his expression puzzled. "You were calling me 'Methos' last night, Blair. Now you and Jim are calling me 'Adam', even in private." 

"We figured if we started thinking of you as Methos, we might slip up in public. So we're just trying to stick to thinking of you as Adam. That way, we won't jeopardize anything." 

"Ah, good point. Well, to answer your question, you already know that Amanda is immortal. So are Duncan MacLeod and Richie Ryan, if he's in town. Joe Dawson isn't, but he knows about us. As a matter of fact, he's a Watcher." 

"A Watcher?" Jim asked. 

"The Watchers are a group who watch immortals. They record, observe, but don't interfere. Usually, anyway. He's a good man, one of the best. And he plays a mean guitar. He owns a bar in Seacouver, Joe's Place. Duncan runs a dojo. Richie races motorcycles. They're all close friends of ours." 

Jim cleared his throat. "Uh, speaking of friends, I should warn you. Before we talked things out, I ran a background check on the two of you and Amanda. We found out about what happened in LA several years ago. One of the guys in our unit is an acquaintance of John Paquette's. We had Joel ask him about the two of you. He didn't tell us anything, told us to talk to you," he rushed to assure them. "I hope we didn't cause any problems." 

"Nah, John knows about us being immortal. It was kind of hard to keep the knowledge from him. He saw Duncan win a fight and take a Quickening." Methos pulled up in front of the police station. "Well, I guess this is where we say 'goodbye'. I must say, you made sure our visit wasn't dull." 

They exited the car, although Adam left it running. They converged on the sidewalk. 

"Ellison, take care of yourself and your partner." 

"I will, Adam. Thank you for everything." The man nodded, said goodbye to Blair and returned to the driver's side of the car. That left Jim, Blair and Charlie on the sidewalk. 

"Well," Charlie began hesitantly. "Normally, when I assist police agencies, I don't come away feeling like I've made new friends. But I have this time. I hope you'll take us up on our invitation. We'd love to see you both again." She held out a hand to each man. 

When Jim touched her, the scene on the sidewalk faded, and was replaced by a lush, verdant jungle. Standing before him was Charlie, a hawk sitting tamely on her shoulder, its golden eyes staring at Jim. Catching movement out of the corner of his eye, he turned to see Blair standing next to him, a wolf at his feet. The wolf's pink tongue was lolling out of the side of its mouth, as it gazed up and seemed to grin at Jim. Jim could swear he recognized that grin. It was the same one he constantly saw on his partner's face. 

Feeling a nudge at his leg, Jim stared down at the panther that had come up to stand next to him. It rubbed up against his leg, and purred. Jim glanced back up and smiled at Charlie. 

The jungle disappeared and the noise and sights of the Great City once more surrounded the three. In contrast to his first meeting with this woman, Jim felt no fear, no hesitation. He gave Charlie a hug. "Have a good trip home, Charlie. Call us to let us know you made it okay." 

"I will, Jim," she said, returning the hug. Her green eyes were bright and happy. 

"My turn," Blair broke in, turning Charlie around to give her a hug of his own. "It's been great meeting you. I promise we'll be up to visit. I have questions for all of you." 

"Uh oh, Charlie," Jim teased. "Maybe you should warn everyone. Blair with questions makes the Spanish Inquisition seem like an interview with a deaf-mute." He took a step back, dodging Blair's half-hearted swat. 

Charlie smiled at the two of them. "Don't lose the friendship the two of you have. It's very special." She turned and opened up the car door, then stopped. "By the way, Jim. When you and..." she searched for the name she was 'receiving.' "...Janice go out, stay away from the seafood restaurants. She's severely allergic to shellfish." She got in the car. With a final wave at Jim and Blair, she and Methos drove away. 

Jim watched the car until it was out of sight, even for a Sentinel. "So, I guess we should plan on a trip to Seacouver, huh, Darwin?" 

"Oh, yeah, man. This is gonna be _so_ cool." 

Tugging on a lock of Sandburg's hair, he said, "C'mon, Chief. I want to stop by Data before we head back up to finish our paperwork." 

Blair smiled. "Cool. I hope Theresa's there." They headed inside the police building. 

* * *

_One Month Later_

Jim knocked on the open door of Blair's office. "Yo, Chief, you about ready? We have to pick up Janice and Theresa at 7:00." 

"Yeah, Jim, just about." Blair turned off his computer, and stuffed a stack of papers into his backpack. But as they were about to leave, they were interrupted by a young, blonde co-ed. 

"Mr. Sandburg? Professor Langley's secretary asked me to drop this off. It was delivered to her office this morning." The girl handed Blair a small package, blushing profusely. 

"Oh. Thanks, I appreciate it." He smiled, causing the girl's face to become an even deeper shade of red. She quickly turned and exited, but Jim could hear the giggles coming from the hall as she joined her friends. The cop stifled a laugh, knowing that Sandburg was well aware of the effect he'd had. But Blair made a habit of staying out of romantic entanglements with the students he taught, and hadn't wanted to encourage the girl's crush. 

"Hey, it's from Adam," Blair said enthusiastically. He ripped open the package. A folded note lay on top of several leather-bound books. Blair read the note out loud to Jim. 

P {margin-left: 1.00in} 

_Blair,_

The author gave these journals to me just before his death. Yes, he knew what I was. He said that I would know what to do with these when the time came. I'm sorry it took so long to get them to you, but I had to have an associate of mine in Paris find them among some items I had in storage. I present them to you as a gift. I'm sure you'll know what to do with them. Charlie says hello. We'll talk to you soon. 

Adam 

P {margin-left: 0.00in} 

Blair picked up the top book and started leafing through it. He was reading one of the last pages in the journal. He felt the blood roaring in his ears as he realized what he was reading. His face drained of color. "Oh, my God," he said, feeling light-headed. He felt Jim guide him into a chair. Blair's head was gently shoved down between his legs. Once the dizziness passed, Blair raised his head. Jim had crouched down next to him, his blue eyes anxious and worried. 

"Chief, you okay? What happened?" 

Blair's hand was trembling as he reached out to picked up the book he'd dropped. He touched it reverently, not entirely sure that he wasn't dreaming. "Jim," he said softly, "these journals..." 

"Yeah, what about them, Chief?" 

"They're...they were written by Sir Richard Burton." 

"The man that wrote about Sentinels?" He whistled softly. "Nice of Adam." 

"You don't understand, Jim. These are journals that no one has ever seen. According to what I just read, Burton didfind a Sentinel all those years ago. But he never published the information because he was trying to protect the man. It was his brother, Edward. Do you have any idea what this means for my dissertation, man?" 

"No. Is it going to create a problem?" 

"No, it may solve them. I won't know for sure until I have a chance to look through all the journals. But if these are Burton's notes about Edward's abilities...Jim, man, I could do my diss based on these journals. I wouldn't have to reveal your identity. I could include some of my own data, but not have to say that I found a full Sentinel." 

"That would be great, Chief. I don't relish the thought of having to go through a series of tests to substantiate your thesis, but I know how important your doctorate is to you." 

"Jim, man, how come you never said anything?" Blair asked. 

"And do what, Sandburg, ask you to give up your life's work? What kind of friend would I be if I did that? If it comes down to it, I'll take any test those old fogies on the committee want to throw at us." 

"Then Adam may have just solved both our problems." 

"If those books are what you need, what will you do with all your notes about me?" 

"The data is important, Jim. I'd probably do exactly what Burton did. Give them to someone like Adam for safekeeping. Let him store them until the time came that their release wouldn't put you at risk." 

Jim looked glum. "Jim, what's wrong? I mean, if it means that much to you, I'll destroy my notes. No one will ever know." 

Jim looked up from the floor, surprised. "No, Blair, it's not that. It's just..." 

"Just?" 

"Look, Chief, you know I don't do this emotional stuff. But, when you do get your doctorate, then you won't have an excuse to hang around the department anymore. I guess it just hit me that I'd be losing my partner. The best partner I ever had. I know it wouldn't change our friendship or the Sentinel-Guide thing, but I...I really like working with you, Chief. You're a hell of a cop." 

Blair found it hard to swallow past the lump in his throat. Jim was right, he didn't 'do' emotional stuff. Blair had never heard him talk like this. "I don't know what to say, Jim. You're right, it wouldn't change our friendship. And I like working with you, too. I don't know, it's something we'd both need to think about, I guess." Both men were silent for several moments then Blair shook himself out of it. "Look, let's not worry about it until I've had a chance to go through the books. What is it you always say? 'We'll deal with it as it comes?' We'll work it out. Have faith in your Guide." 

"Always, Chief, always. C'mon, let's go. We've got a couple of good-looking women waiting on us. And I don't want to be late." 

Blair smiled. "You got it, Jim." He picked up his backpack, locked his office door and followed Jim out to the parking lot. He didn't see Jim's truck anywhere. He followed Jim over to a blue mid-sized sedan. "Jim, what's this? Where's your truck?" 

Jim laid his hands on the roof of the car. "Well, I figured we couldn't fit all four of us in the truck. And since your car is in the shop **again** , I went ahead and rented this one for the weekend." He opened his door, and flipped the automatic switch to unlock Blair's side. 

Blair got in and buckled his seat belt. Running his hands over the smooth leather, he took a deep breath. "Naomi would probably faint to hear me admit this, but I love the smell of a new car." 

Jim laughed. His cell phone rang, and he switched it on. "Ellison. Yeah, Captain. What? Now? Captain, Blair and I...Yeah...Yes, sir, we'll be right there," he told Simon, his voice resigned. He hung up and handed the phone to Blair. "Here, call Janice and let them know we're going to be about an hour late." 

"What? Why?" Blair asked, accepting the phone. 

Jim looked at Blair. "There was a break-in at the Cascade Museum ten minutes ago. The suspect is described as a white female with short blonde hair, wearing a trenchcoat." 

"Amanda," Blair groaned. "Why did she have to pick tonight of all nights?" 

"Naomi would probably say it was bad karma." 

Blair threw Jim a mischievous glance. "So if you catch her, **are** you gonna handle the strip search personally? Hey, Jim, no...wait...aaackk...uh, Jim, I really don't think you can drive a stick shift with me in a headlock. Jim...Jim...ow!" 

THE END 

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© 1999   
Please send comments to the author! 

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